Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1040346.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Subarashiki_Kono_Sekai_|_The_World_Ends_With_You
  Relationship:
      Hanekoma_Sanae/Kiryu_Yoshiya
  Character:
      Sakuraba_Neku, Kitaniji_Megumi, Atarashi_Koko, Kiryu_"Joshua"_Yoshiya,
      Hanekoma_Sanae, Misaki_Shiki
  Additional Tags:
      Teacher-Student_Relationship, Alternate_Universe_-_High_School
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-11 Completed: 2014-07-15 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 34192
****** Good Intentions, Better Excuses ******
by alliterations
Summary
     Developing less-than-appropriate feelings for a student was never
     supposed to happen to Hanekoma. Then again, neither was crippling art
     block.
Notes
     Oh god this was only supposed to be a one-shot I don't know what
     happened.
     Just to let you all know, nothing explicitly sexual happens until
     Joshua is within a month of being 18 or so. There's going to be make
     outs before then, but. All of this is in parts yet to come, anyway.
     Some other random notes: if you find yourself wondering why Koko is
     allowed to keep her hair dyed, the school is very...progressive,
     shall we say. They're big on the arts, so creative expression in most
     forms isn't frowned upon. There's still a uniform, though. Joshua's
     birthday is in early November. Also, Hanekoma drinks toasted almonds
     (kahlua/amaretto).
     I think that's it. So without further ado [MUFFLED "HANDS CLEAN" BY
     ALANIS MORISSETTE PLAYING IN THE DISTANCE]
***** Plans *****
i.
Indefinite hiatus.
A phrase with an innocuous outer shell, but to Hanekoma, it held enormous
pejoratives under the surface, like a real-estate listing calling a closet-
sized dump "cozy" and "an opportunity for do-it-yourselfers." He'd prided
himself in avoiding the long stretches of inactivity that seemed to plague so
many of his other artist peers, simply changing medium whenever he felt a block
coming on and churning out pieces with the same frequency and quality as
before. Until now, of course
He'd spent week after week wandering around the city, gathering wisps of
inspiration, only to rush back to his studio and stare at a blank canvas for
hours. And even when he did manage to hammer something out, there would be
something off, a dullness to his work that couldn't be remedied with brighter,
bolder lines or color or vision. He'd never known such all-consuming
frustration before, such apathy, such complete inability to create something he
was even marginally satisfied with. Whatever luck or talent that had kept him
from this had finally run out.
His agent seemed, strangely, relieved that he finally decided to take a break,
said it was a good time to reshape image and build hype. But if Hanekoma was
really bored, he might have an idea in mind that would be good PR on top of
something to keep busy and had Hanekoma ever considered teaching art? The
answer was, of course,no, he'd never pictured himself as the teacher type, much
less for high school. Even with his agent assuring him the school was
exceedingly prestigious, private, filled with well-mannered and bright kids, he
was more than a little hesitant about the prospect, but escape from the boredom
and discontentment that hung over him recently was a powerful motivator. It
took just another moment—picturing the blank, untouched canvas he'd been
staring at day after day after day—for him to finally agree.
Any reservations about his qualifications were dismissed by his agent, as were
his worries over remaining strictly anonymous. Apparently, merely being CAT
held a lot of weight, enough that the school was willing to bend over backwards
to accommodate him the moment he expressed interest. That settled everything
save the paperwork, which his agent soon produced with a smile and post-it
arrows directly where Hanekoma should sign.
Perhaps, he reasoned, getting back to the root of things would do him some
good. At the very least, it was something to do, a distraction from the lack of
artistic drive that continued to gnaw at him, but as soon as he stepped onto
campus, he had to deal with the new, unsettling feeling of being completely out
of his element, surrounded by students clad in neatly pressed uniforms, their
laughter and chatter loud and sparkling. He was nothing if not able to bluff,
however, and maneuvered through the crowds with manufactured nonchalance.
Except for the occasional curious glance, the teenagers largely treated him
with indifference, far more concerned with the upcoming year and how boring
orientation was, and the recounting of whatever flings they had over break.
Classes did not start in earnest until tomorrow, but he was advised to make an
appearance, to hear opening speeches and get a tour from one of the established
teachers. He'd already visited the classrooms and his office, a decent space
within the art building on the west side of the campus, but when he tried to
locate the administration offices, he realized he had underestimated both the
size of the grounds and the incomprehensibility of the map he was given. He
managed to stumble into a building to the north, finding it mostly empty, the
corridors lined with half-opened doors leading into rooms filled with stands
for sheet music, instrument cases, and in one instance, a grand piano.
It was a start, but before he could fish out his jumbled excuse for a map to
locate where the "music hall" mark was, a door to one of the few rooms that had
been shut tight finally swung open.
"Oh, I'm sorry." A woman peeked her head out of the doorway, eyes widening
behind her round-framed glasses when she spotted Hanekoma. "All buildings are
closed to everyone but faculty right now. I was just about to send my last
student off—”
“I am faculty."
“Excuse me?" She squinted for a moment, trying and failing to recognize him,
but it took only another second or two before she sharply straightened and
clapped her hands together in realization. "Wait, are you the new art teacher?"
"Ah, yeah. I got kinda lost, though." Hanekoma shrugged, sheepish, fingers
rubbing quickly over the back of his neck.
"That's no problem. I'll point you in the right direction—actually. Yoshiya,
you’re going towards the admin building. Why don’t you show him?” She glanced
over her shoulder, addressing a student somewhere behind her, and Hanekoma
caught a glimpse of soft, ash blonde hair before the other stepped fully into
view.
“Not a problem.” His tone was polite to the point of rudeness, a thin veneer
covering up disinterest, but his teacher didn’t seem to notice or care. “You
should get to your meeting, Inoue-sensei.”
“Right, right. I’ll see you both tomorrow, and get a proper introduction.” She
smiled at Hanekoma, before starting down the hallway in the opposite direction,
waving slightly as she went. “Take care.”
“Well. Shall we?” Yoshiya angled his torso towards the exit, waiting for
Hanekoma to move first. He held himself with a poise that seemed downright
unnatural, every movement measured and contained, and if he noticed Hanekoma
looking him over as they walked along the campus, he didn’t mention it.
“I’m Sanae Hanekoma, by the way.” The silence was making him edgy, and even if
he didn’t think he could surmount the wall the other had erected between them,
at least he could carry on a civil conversation.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Yoshiya Kiryu.” His gaze shifted, and Hanekoma caught a
flash of bold violet. Despite the striking color, Yoshiya’s eyes were locked,
unreadable, and reminded Hanekoma distinctly of paint straight out of the tube:
bright and vivid, but lacking depth. “You’re the new art teacher?”
“Yep. You interested?”
“I wouldn't say no,” he started, shrugging half-heartedly. “I’m taking your
class, but this is mostly out of requirement. Well-rounded education and all
that.”
Hanekoma was good at reading poker faces—he had to be, when he was a gambling
man—but at that faux-polite brush off, he wasn’t sure if that was a crack in
Yoshiya’s mask or added thorns on the outside of his defenses. Either way, he
only laughed it off.
“I’ll try to make it painless for ya.”
“Painless?” For the first time, he had Yoshiya’s full, undivided attention. It
was startling, both to have focus on him so suddenly, and to see the flicker of
interest across the other’s expression. “Most people would say ‘fun’.”
“Do I look like most people?” At that, Yoshiya studied him for a moment more
before turning his head away and letting out a long hum. Maybe, maybe not.
“That’s the administrative building.” He pointed to a single story building,
functional and without any defining fixtures. “Head through the doors there,
and talk to the secretary at the desk. They should be able to tell you where
you need to go.”
“Thanks,” Hanekoma said, casting a glance around, trying to gauge the distance
between the music hall and this place, sketching a mental campus map. “Guess
I’ll see you in class, then.”
“I guess you will.” After a cursory wave, Yoshiya was off, making his way
across the grass towards the main campus gate. Hanekoma watched him, feeling a
light tug of curiosity in the back of his mind. He should have been wary,
considering what penname he chose to hide behind in the art world, but
something kept his eyes fixated on the other’s figure until he disappeared into
the mingling crowds on the far side of the lawn.
He had hoped for something motivating from this job, after all.
ii.
After setting up the lighting and arranging the seats in a circle around a
central podium for the drawing that day, he tried, unsuccessfully, to get some
sketches down. Thankfully, the trickle of students into the spacious, high-
ceilinged art room was a suitable distraction from banging his head against his
continued art block, although the thought that he’d have to teach all of them
was still a little nerve-wracking, especially since his introductory class was
the first one of the day. Instructing a group that likely had no more
experience in art than doodling in the margins of notes would be an exercise in
improvisation, but even that was preferable to ennui.
When Yoshiya arrived, he breezed by without even an askance look of
acknowledgement, focused instead upon a girl with hair dyed in two different
colors, who was patting the seat next to her. She called him Joshua, and they
both fell into a conversation about lucky bags, soon fading into the white
noise of the whole room chattering at once.
The bell signaling the start of class both imposed silence over the students
and forced Hanekoma to come out from the relative safety near the unused easels
to actually do his job. A quick greeting of mornin’, introducing himself, and
the typical welcome to the class spiel only bought him so much time, but
halfway through mentioning they’d touch on color theory after lighting and
shading, a girl towards the front primly raised her hand.
“Hanekoma-sensei—”
“Ah, hey, no, I’m not used to that.” Despite being instinctual, his wince must
have seemed exaggerated, since it sent a ripple of giggles throughout the room.
“Call me Mr. H if you gotta.”
“Mr. H,” she amended. “What about grades? Will there be exams on artistic
theory, or…?”
“Nah, nothing like that.” He distinctly heard a handful of sighs in various
degrees of relief and had to bite back a smile. It wasn’t his intent to
purposefully lighten their test load—art couldn’t be measured by truly
objective means, in Hanekoma’s opinion—but it was a benefit nonetheless. “I
expect you to show what you learn in your work, but all I ever really ask for
is effort towards improvement.”
Apparently satisfied, the students asked no further questions, and soon he had
set them upon the task of drawing a sphere he had set on the pedestal in the
middle of the room. He offered no further parameters or direction, only that
their medium should stick to graphite for this sketch. Honestly, he just wanted
to gauge everyone’s level, and starting with something basic was the best way
to accomplish that.
He watched them draw, peering over all their shoulders only once, to make sure
they were on track, and all of them tensed up when he did so, pencil strokes
becoming more frantic and busy. Well. All of them except Yoshiya…or was it
Joshua? Probably a nickname, one reserved for friends, which meant it was none
of Hanekoma’s business. He turned his thoughts to the other’s sketch instead,
noting he had at least a decent grasp of shading, but his lines were too stiff
and half-hearted, leading to unnatural shadow gradients. Huh.
There was no need to dwell, though, since he’d have plenty of time to comb
through his and the rest of the students’ drawings in detail later, and he
moved on to observe the minimalistic approach of Yoshiya’s companion.
When the dismissal bell rang, Hanekoma had them all set their sketchbooks in a
designated space on the back counter for him to leaf through at a better time.
They all filed by him as they made their way out of the room, a few saying
goodbyes as they passed—a hopeful sign that he hadn’t crashed and burned.
Mission accomplished.
But when Yoshiya swept by without a word, again, Hanekoma felt an impulse grab
him before he could put up defenses against it.
“Painless enough for ya?” It wasn’t often that he did things before his mind
caught up. He rather prided himself on being three moves ahead, but Yoshiya’s
apathetic, prickly shell only filled him with the strange need to crack it
open.
Yoshiya stopped a few paces away, barely glancing over his shoulder, showing
just the barest crinkle in his brow from confusion. His companion—Hanekoma made
a mental note to match names on his student roster with pictures in the
directory later—shot him a much more openly baffled look, but in the end,
Yoshiya only shrugged and said, “under the circumstances, I suppose.”
He was gone a second later, his friend trailing after him while loudly asking,
“what was that all about?” Hanekoma only clicked his tongue, and pushed one of
the desks inside so he could get to the center and began preparing for his
second class.
Kids these days.
iii.
It had been a particularly windy spring, and the cherry trees on campus were
nearly stripped of all their blossoms by the time it was warm enough in the
afternoons for the boys to start rolling their sleeves up, and the girls to tie
their cardigans around their waists. Joshua perched on the edge of the bench
set outside the art building, half-listening to Koko chattering beside him
while watching the last few petals swirl around in the breeze. His mind was on
composing, tracing notes onto his knee until he had a phone shoved in his line
of sight, a picture of—admittedly—delicious looking crepes and parfaits on the
screen.
“This is that new place around Molco like, everyone is talking about.” The huge
mass of charms on Koko’s phone jingled as she took it away, swiping her finger
in the motion used to scroll, before she began typing something out. “You wanna
go before we hit Natural Puppy? I’m totally starving.”
“If you’re hungry, you don’t have to wait for me,” Joshua offered, but Koko
just made a face.
“It’s okay! Mr.H’s meetings don’t take that long anyway. He just, like, tells
you what you’ve been doing good and what you can improve on and bam! You’re
done.” She paused, thumbs held just above the touchscreen as she glanced at
Joshua through the fringe of her bangs. “He’s super nice, so you could, you
know, actually talk to him.”
“I don’t see why I should go out of my way for just that.”
“You already have!” Koko protested. “The first day of school you—”
“You mean that bit of conversation he felt like bringing up after I had to
escort him because Inoue-sensei told me to?” Joshua raised one eyebrow, keeping
his gaze locked with Koko’s until she let out a sharp breath, defeated.
“Well, I like him.” And that was that.
Joshua stood, a beat or two later after checking the time, leaving Koko to busy
herself with whatever was holding her attention on her phone as he made his way
into the art building. He strode past all the spacious studio rooms to the
narrow staircase at the south end of the hall, and trotted up to the second
floor. Pausing at the landing, he took a moment to glance at the numbers on
small gold placards screwed into the doors, before making his way to the last
one on the left. It was cracked halfway open, but he knocked lightly anyway,
slipping inside only when he heard come in.
“Hey there, Yoshiya,” Hanekoma greeted, grin wide and easy. “Give me a sec to
find your sketchbook, but have a seat in the meantime.”
Joshua did as instructed, settling down in the chair set on the other side of
the desk. Hanekoma’s space was a disorganized mess, which wasn’t exactly
surprising, considering the stereotypical habits of artists, but it was a
wonder how he found anything at all among the clutter. Besides that, the office
was quite nice, with a view from the window on the wall to the right
overlooking the tops of the trees in the courtyard behind the art, music, and
literature buildings. It must have been picturesque when the cherry blossoms
were in their prime, but it was pretty enough in the deepening afternoon light
as well. Joshua was jolted from his admiration when he heard Hanekoma lean back
in his own chair, flipping idly through the sketchbook he somehow managed to
find in the chaos.
“So. Verdict?” Joshua propped his elbow up on the armrest to rest his cheek
against the back of his hand, but Hanekoma just stared at him, impassively,
through his sunglasses. There were quite the rumors over why their teacher wore
those everywhere, ranging from prescription lenses to disfigurement to yakuza
group, but Joshua didn’t think it was anything more than a habitual fashion
statement, albeit a poor one.
“Maybe not as bad as you think.” He shook his head, setting the book down on
the desk and sliding it over for Joshua’s perusal. “You’ve got decently sound
fundamentals…have you taken classes before?”
“In middle school, as requirement.” Making a dismissive gesture with one hand,
he flipped through each page with the other, stopping occasionally to decipher
his teacher’s notes scrawled in the blank spaces next to the drawings. “There’s
a but attached to that, isn’t there?”
“Yeah, there is. And it’s something you’re gonna roll your eyes at, but hear me
out.”
“I’m listening.” Joshua glanced up, leaving his sketchbook alone in his lap for
the time being.
“Your art doesn’t, for lack of a better phrase, have depth.” He tilted his head
against the back of his chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Even doodles have a
kinda…emotional quality to them. Without that, there’s nothing personal,
nothing telling. No way to make your own style.”
“You’re saying my art lacks…feeling.”
“Basically. I’m telling you nearly the opposite of what I’m telling everyone
else: you don’t have to color so much within the lines, Joshua—whoops.”
Hanekoma cringed a bit and sat up straight, offering an apologetic smile.
“Sorry about the over-familiarity, there. I just hear Koko call you that
enough, it kinda stuck in my head.”
“I don’t mind.” That was, surprisingly, not a platitude. Shocked at his sudden
sincerity, Joshua fiddled with the ends of his hair, gaze cast aside. “The only
people who really call me Yoshiya anymore are my parents when they’re angry,
and Inoue-sensei. Despite her looks, she’s really old-fashioned.”
“Ah, yeah, about her. I was gonna mention, she brags on you a bit, so I
listened to some of your piano concerts. You certainly put a lot of emotion
into that.”
“You could tell?” He raised one eyebrow, half surprised and half skeptical.
“Don’t sound so shocked,” Hanekoma scoffed. “Just because you’re slapped with
the prodigy title doesn’t mean I don’t know a few things. You’re good, though.
I’ll give ya that.”
“Thank you.” At least that ended with a compliment. He stared back at Hanekoma,
blinking slowly as he tried to come to terms with the fact his teacher wasn’t
even close to matching his first impression, which both intrigued and incensed
Joshua. He hated being wrong.
“Anyway…” Hanekoma waved his hand at Joshua’s sketchbook. “Like you said, just
gotta put a little more feeling into it. I don’t care if that means the
technique isn’t up to your usual par. We can reconcile the two, later, all
right?”
“I’ll be sure to.”
“Look forward to it.” Relaxing back in his chair, Hanekoma regarded him with a
slight smile, of amusement or satisfaction or wryness Joshua couldn’t tell.
“You enjoyin’ class so far?”
“It’s not bad,” Joshua answered, honestly, watching with a sliver of puzzlement
as the upward turn of the other’s mouth widened into a grin.
“I’ll take that as a good review, comin’ from you. But that’s all I wanted to
talk about.” He tapped his index finger a few times on one of the few open
spaces on the desk. “Just leave your sketchbook here, and you can go. If you
got any questions, though, or just wanna talk, come back anytime you want.”
Joshua stood, placing the sketchbook in the spot indicated before reaching for
the strap of his bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder. He looked Hanekoma over
again, lips pursing. There was something incredibly disarming about the other,
a casual, nonchalant charm he exuded effortlessly, but even if he couldn’t
quite discern what, Joshua was sure there was a little edge of something else
underneath. It needled at him, in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe it
was because his original assumption was far off the mark, or that he felt off-
balance not knowing whether Hanekoma was now more aggravating or interesting.
Either way, he managed a polite smile before he turned towards the door.
“I’ll keep that in mind. See you in class, Mr. H.” The other’s see ya followed
him out into the hallway, and he quickly made his way down the stairs and back
outside the building, to where Koko was still waiting patiently on the bench.
“How’d it go?” She stood, quick and chipper, slipping her phone into one of the
side pockets of her bag as she lifted it up, straps resting in the crook of her
elbow.
“Not exactly what I expected.”
“What do you mean?” Koko fell into step beside him, but when Joshua’s only
response was a shrug, she folded her arms, eyebrows furrowing in irritation.
“You know what? You, like, play up that whole deep and mysterious thing way,
way too much.”
“Maybe.” She knocked her hip into his, just enough to make him stumble, and
Joshua finally conceded. “I just talked to him a bit, like you said to. That’s
all.”
“Fine, whatever. Don’t tell me.” Koko rolled her eyes, unconvinced. “I’m too
hungry to care right now. And you’re paying, since you’re being a total jerk.”
“A small price to pay to keep my reputation as an enigma,” Joshua teased, and
thankfully, Koko changed the subject to a new website she had run across when
she had been waiting for him.
Truthfully, Joshua wasn’t entirely sure himself what he’d gotten out of the
brief exchange in the office. But that ambiguity was the only thing that kept
him considering taking up Hanekoma on his offer of further visits. It could be
nothing, of course, another spark that faded into cold, awful boredom. Still.
He made a mental note to make some free time in the following week.
On the off chance it led to something fun, of course.
iv.
It started with talks.
If he was being honest, Hanekoma didn’t suspect that Joshua would show up in
his office again, except for the next required meeting to discuss how his art
was shaping up. But he extended the invitation anyway, and shockingly, Joshua
took it.
His visits were sporadic, happening three days in a row and then nothing for
two weeks, but he always showed up, eventually. The conversations didn’t stray
far from shallower topics of hobbies, likes and dislikes, and various school-
related events, but Joshua was sharp and sparkling, engaging to the point
Hanekoma had started to look forward to hearing the other’s distinctive knock
of three light raps on his door. Inquiries into deeper subject matter, about
Joshua’s friends or family, or even thoughts beyond vague opinions about
literature and food, earned a polite brush-off and an abrupt shift in the
conversation topic.
But that was fine. It should have been fine. Enough. A satisfying and
entertaining relationship with a student, but there came a day when Joshua was
fiddling with his phone before class, and Hanekoma felt a sudden, prickling
itch right at his fingertips, something that hadn’t hit him in months. He
wanted to draw. Specifically, he wanted to capture that exact moment, of
Joshua’s phone nestled in his palm, index finger hovering above the touch
screen.
He had pretty hands, elegant and well-proportioned, but that wasn’t a
revelation to Hanekoma. He’d seen them at work in the videos of Joshua’s
concerts Inoue sent him when he seemed skeptical over everyone calling the kid
a musical prodigy. He had to eat his words when the recordings left no room to
judge the talk as undeserved, but Joshua didn’t need to know anything that
would preen his ego further, didn’t need to know that Hanekoma replayed some of
them three times just to make sure he wasn’t imagining the way Joshua
brightened on stage, incredibly at ease and himself for once.
Maybe it was the repetition, Joshua in his class and Joshua in his office after
school and Joshua playing piano, that Hanekoma mistook for inspiration. Maybe
this teaching gig was actually paying off. Whatever the cause, be it fake or
wires crossing or a fluke, it still got him to put pencil to paper. Just a page
of sketchy hands—Joshua’s hands—in various gestures and positions, but he was
satisfied with the result, and that was better than anything since the start of
his daunting art block.
Between trying to expand on what he’d begun, and continuing to teach, he had
little room to give much thought to the admittedly worrying source of his
sudden breakthrough. Most of him assumed this was just the start of getting
back in gear, and that would be the end of it, but occasionally he was
reminded, sudden and stinging like an electric shock, that he might be straying
too close to the edge of a vague, dangerous mess.
He didn’t like to think too long on that, either.
Towards the end of summer, it was still sweltering, and he kept the window to
his office wide open as he conducted the second round of check-in meetings.
Most of the students showed marked improvement, which both assured Hanekoma it
was fine to move onto more theoretical concepts, and imbued him with an odd
sense of pride. Who would’ve thought people weren’t just being well-meaning
when they said teaching was rewarding?
Joshua’s appointment was one of the last, right after Koko’s. She must have
texted him when her meeting was wrapping up, since he wandered in just as she
was gathering her things. Hanekoma busied himself with locating Joshua’s
sketchbook while the two of them chatted, but the second he turned his back, he
heard a muttered oh, before I forget, followed by a muffled thunk. Startled,
Hanekoma swiveled around to face the front of the room again, only to find
Joshua had plunked himself down on the edge of the desk. Narrowing his eyes a
fraction, Joshua leaned forward, the movement sending alarm lurching through
Hanekoma, heart jumping into his throat. His instincts were to start scrambling
away, possibly send his chair toppling to the floor, but quicker than he could
even blink, Joshua reached up and nimbly plucked the sunglasses off his face.
He was still too close, enough that Hanekoma could see the mottled burst of
darker violet around the other’s pupils, but he was no longer inching closer.
“They’re brown,” Joshua announced, sliding off the desk and turning to Koko
with no small amount of self-satisfaction. “Dark brown. Ha, you owe me lunch.”
“What? No fair!” Her shoulders slumped, and she shot Hanekoma an affronted
look, as if his eye color was really at fault. “I was totally sure it was
something neater.”
“You two had a bet on what my eye color was?”
“Welllll, yeah. But we weren’t the only ones,” Koko explained, shrugging.
“You’re way too normal, Mr. H. Why wear those everywhere if you’re not, like,
hiding something?”
“I guess you could say it’s a habit. And they’re prescription, so…” He held his
hand out, meaningfully.
“You don’t think you look cool enough in regular glasses?” Joshua gently folded
the sunglasses up and set them into his palm, but not without the snide remark.
Of course. Hanekoma ignored him in favor of checking the lenses for any
obtrusive smudges.
“Aw, I think he could pull that look off!”
“Hey, I don’t remember asking you brats for your fashion advice.” It was spoken
without any real venom, and the other two continued to smirk at him playfully,
entirely unrepentant. “Which means ya gotta head out, Koko. At least until I go
over Joshua’s work with him.”
“Okay.” She twisted her lips into an exaggerated sour expression, making a show
of being reluctant, but still waved enthusiastically over her shoulder as she
slipped out into the hall. “Don’t be too harsh on him, Mr. H!”
Hanekoma had slid his sunglasses back on by the time Joshua took a seat, and
the rest of the meeting went by a usual. Since the last evaluation, Joshua had
become freer with his lines, his shading, putting broad, looping amusement in
some drawings and darker, brooding gloominess in others. They weren’t quite as
technically sound as the ones towards the beginning of the year, but Hanekoma
hadn’t asked for that. He praised Joshua for his improvement, and gave further
instruction for how he could bring his new skills together with his old. It
should be easier, once he was given color to work with in subsequent classes.
“You got any questions?” There weren’t any detours from the topic this time,
and Hanekoma finished up everything he had to say quickly and easily. Joshua,
quiet as he scanned the last of Hanekoma’s notes written next to his drawings,
finally shook his head, handing the book over a beat later.
“No. Nothing really comes to…” He trailed off, eyes fixated on something on the
desk corner closest to Hanekoma’s right hand. Following Joshua’s gaze, he was
only met with his own personal sketchbook, open to drawings of—shit. Despite
reassuring himself that there was no way Joshua could recognize his own hands
well enough that the drawings couldn’t be written off as a random model, it
still caused panic to chill his blood, creeping through him like frost climbing
up a window.
He watched, dazed, as Joshua reached out to grab the edge of the book and pull
it towards him. But, instead of zeroing in on the most recent page, he seemed
transfixed by an abstract in colored pencil that was done nearly half a year
before, and Hanekoma slowly realized his anxiety should center on something
else entirely. Inch by agonizing inch, Joshua raised his head, mouth open
slightly in disbelief. Hanekoma would have relished the moment for seeing a
crack in the other’s usual mask if he hadn’t been kicking himself for lack of
foresight. His concerns were solidified a handful of seconds later as Joshua,
astonished enough to sound vaguely accusatory, muttered, “you’re CAT.”
“You’re a fan?” Hanekoma laughed, a reaction to nervousness he’d never been
able to keep in check. Joshua’s expression shifted to something a fraction more
confused, searching, but in the end, he only waved his hand dismissively.
“No, I’m not.” He paused, tapped a finger to his lips, and then added, “More
accurately, I never disliked his—your—art. But a friend of mine is absolutely
obsessed, so I’d recognize this style anywhere. What are you doing teaching, of
all things?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I wanted a change of pace?” Joshua
immediately shot him a withering look, and he held up both hands placatingly.
“Okay, okay, can’t get that one past you. If you really gotta know the truth,
it’s art block. I needed somethin’ else to do besides wasting away in my
studio.”
“Most people would just take a vacation.” He seemed placated, however, and
continued to look over the drawing, turning the sketchbook around to get a
better angle on a certain part. Hanekoma watched him, trying to decide if he
should feel more disquiet or amusement, before speaking up.
“So who’s the friend? Sure doesn’t seem like Koko.” Joshua’s eyes widened
slightly, blatant shock as far as his expressions went, and he brought one hand
up to the ends of his hair, curling the very tips of it around his index
finger.
“His name is Neku,” he said, just as Hanekoma was about to backpedal for
overstepping a line. “He doesn’t go here. We met in middle school.”
“You still keep in touch?”
“We try to.” Joshua’s lips pursed, like he tasted some of the bitterness edging
his tone. It didn’t take any experience in picking out to breaks in poker faces
to know there was more to it than that, but Hanekoma didn’t remark on it. “It’s
a little difficult when we’re both busy.”
“Well, what else is the internet for, besides porn and complaining? You’re
telling me you can’t write an e-mail?” That earned a snort from Joshua, more
amused than derisive, and Hanekoma cracked a grin.
“I never said we didn’t talk online. But I think…we’re just operating in
different worlds.” It took just a few seconds from the moment the words left
his lips for his posture to stiffen, as if he’d been caught in a lie or let
something slip. It nudged Hanekoma’s curiosity awake, finally being able to
snatch a bit of the truth away from someone who was usually so careful.
“What d’you mean by that?” It was just a gentle prod, voice pitched to a light,
undemanding intonation, in contrast with his much more incisive gaze attempting
to picking out any flinch or tell on the other’s face. Despite the sudden
scrutiny he was under, however, Joshua remained silent, eyes fixed on the
drawing in front of him.
“We lead different lives, is all.” He shrugged one shoulder, limply. “He has
his friends and preoccupations I’m no part of. The same goes for me.”
“That’s no reason you can’t be close,” Hanekoma pointed out. Joshua glanced up
at him, finally, smile wry and wistful in a way that made his stomach twist.
“You’d think so.” With a sigh, Joshua pushed the sketchbook back across the
desk, setting his own in the newly vacated space, and stood. “Anyway, Mr. H, I
should probably get going. And don’t worry, I won’t charge you anything to keep
your secret identity safe.”
“Thank you for reconsidering your blackmail plans.” The dryness in his tone did
nothing to faze Joshua, who was already halfway to the exit. “But considering
how long I’ve kept things anonymous, you don’t think I have precautions and
people who could easily stop a kid like you?”
He paused in the doorway, just long enough to get the last word in before
leaving Hanekoma to nothing but the buzz of the cicadas in the trees outside.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
v.
Winter came early, frost and harsh winds dropping all the leaves from the trees
before anyone could properly enjoy them. Joshua spent more time in Hanekoma’s
office that season, citing cold sensitivity as the reason in October, but by
January he freely admitted he enjoyed the company. If that wasn’t at least a
minor victory, Hanekoma didn’t know what was.
Joshua offered glimpses to his inner workings in little pieces. An offhand
remark there, an allusion there, but Hanekoma had gotten good at recognizing
the way Joshua’s eyes lit up, how his jaw clenched, when he hid smiles. He took
them all and fit it together, scrap by scrap, mostly ignoring thoughts over how
he was letting a kid string him along.
The slowly thawing weather marked the approaching end to the school year, and
Hanekoma set up the final round of meetings before he sent the students off on
their own to prepare for the final project in his class, and exams in others.
He spent a little extra time with the ones that were continuing with art, just
to give them a taste of what would be expected of them in more advanced
classes. Unsurprisingly, he did not see Joshua’s name on any of the rosters for
art courses in the upcoming year, but it still sent a strange sort of
discomfort prickling through Hanekoma’s chest to think the next appointment
might be their last.
Although, like the previous time, he had Koko to finish up with before he could
even think of dealing with Joshua, and she had expressed interest in art for
her second year. But when asked about whether or not she thought art was simply
fun, or she had some career in mind, she bristled.
“You’ll make fun of me,” she insisted, arms folded tightly as she shrank back
more in the chair.
“I promise I won’t. Cross my heart.” He made an X motion with his index finger
over the left side of his chest. Koko looked unconvinced. “Hey, c’mon. I’m not
a mean guy, right? Just trying to help here.”
“You think sweet talk will, like, get you everywhere?”
“Hasn’t steered me wrong before.” She stared at him through her bangs,
skepticism blatant, until Hanekoma shrugged, unmoving on the topic, and the set
of Koko’s shoulders lowered resignedly.
“A wedding planner.” Tugging the sleeves of her soft blue sweater over her
hands, she bought some time to think before pressing on, words coming faster
and easier the more she spoke. “I want to be a wedding planner, but, like,
there are so many places that do only the traditional thing, and I think that’s
totally too strict and boring. I don’t care if everyone wants to dress as
clowns, you know? I just want to be able to make that day special…and like, I
was thinking, I need to know stuff about colors and design to make that happen,
so. More art classes.”
“To be frank, I can only get you so far for something like that, but that’s a
neat dream, kiddo.”
“You think?” Koko blinked, rapidly, surprised for a few seconds before she
broke out into a smile. “Really?”
“’Course I do. In fact…” He leaned his elbow on the desk, matching her grin
before lowering his voice to a mock conspiratorial whisper. “If I ever get
hitched, I’ll call you to plan the whole show, okay?”
“Okay. It’s a deal.” She still fidgeted, adjusting in her chair, but her
posture seemed much more relaxed overall. “Thanks, Mr. H. I think I can see why
Joshua likes talking to you so much.”
“Anytime. And I dunno about the like part. He might just be bored.”
“Mmm, no.” Koko frowned, regarding Hanekoma with uncertainty again. “You
probably already know, but he doesn’t, like, deal with anything he doesn’t
think is worth his time. You must be.”
“If ya say so.” He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck briefly, before
gesturing to the door with the same hand. “Speaking of Joshua, though, could
you do me a favor and send him in? Unless you got any more questions.”
“Nope, I’m good! I’ll go tell him.” She grabbed the strap of her bag before all
but jumping up from her seat. “And thanks again, Mr. H.”
She zipped out of the room in a flurry, her pale, pastel-dyed hair sweeping out
behind her like ribbons, and it didn’t take long before Joshua replaced her in
the chair across from Hanekoma’s desk. Interestingly, he was wearing a pair of
vivid, glassy orange headphones around his neck, some peppy electropop song
blasting from the speakers.
“What’s with those?” At the question, Joshua reached into his pocket,
extracting his phone and pressing a button, causing the music to cut off mid-
chorus.
“They’re a very late birthday and Christmas gift,” he explained. “From Neku. I
thought I’d test them out today.”
“Yeah, don’t look like your normal choice of accessory.”
“Sometimes I like to be surprising.” For such a bland statement, there was a
good deal of bite tacked onto the end of it that gave Hanekoma pause.
“Well, changing things up now and again is good.” He ignored the pile of
sketchbooks in favor of folding his arms on the desk, leaning over it just
enough to get a better look at the other’s expression. “What’s up, Joshua?”
“It’s—” Nothing, he was going to say, but something in Hanekoma’s expression
made him hesitate. “Well. You’ve never told me explicitly, but I think some of
the reason you like staying anonymous is because it’s easier, right? People
build up CAT in their minds as much as they want, and you remain unscathed. I’m
not afforded that luxury.”
“You don’t like people to have expectations of you?”
“I don’t like people to have expectations of who I am,” Joshua corrected, thumb
and index finger worrying a strand of hair between them. “Titles, you know.
Student council. Musical prodigy. Family affluence has made even Kiryu one and
it’s…stifling, to say the least.”
“So, who says you have to fit into any of that?” Startlingly, that earned
laughter from Joshua, humorless and dry, and the remnants of a smile in the
wake of it turned condescending.
“Sorry, I just didn’t expect something so downright naive from you.” In
response, Hanekoma only raised an eyebrow, questioning and unimpressed, until
Joshua decided to continue. “I learned a long time ago, it’s just how things
work. People form images and expectations of everyone else. When those aren’t
met, they get annoyed, and brush it off. I might as well accept it, although
that doesn’t mean it isn’t exhausting to deal with.”
“You can’t expect me to believe you think everyone is like that. What about—”
“Koko and Neku?” He filled in. “Exceptions by circumstance only.”
“Hey, I dunno about Neku, but Koko would cry if you told her that.” When the
other remained impassive, Hanekoma let out a long, heavy breath. “Look, Joshua.
All I’m saying is that you don’t have to feel trapped or constrained.”
“Maybe. And I’ll grant you that Koko and Neku might be exceptions in more ways.
But when the people who made fun of your foreign looks and abilities in
elementary school are the same ones praising your appearance and talent in
middle school when they realize they can leech off your recognition, it’s easy
to assume that’s the majority.” The set of his jaw was tight, gaze cast to the
carpet. “Someone liking me as a person has just been a rare occurrence.”
“Would you believe me if I said I like you just for you?” How couldn’t he? How
was it possible not to like Joshua, petulance and charm all alike? The
sketches, the replication of Joshua’s hands in a dozen different gestures were
testament to that.
“I don’t know. You’re nice to everyone, Mr. H.” The sudden sincerity of his
words, the fragile smile pulling at his mouth was a punch to the sternum
Hanekoma wasn’t expecting. It knocked whatever he was going to say back into
his lungs to join the steady ache building in his chest, but before he could
catch his breath, salvage something from this, Joshua pressed on. “Can we get
to the evaluation, now? I have somewhere to be, after this.”
“Ah…” Joshua’s expression tightened, posture stiff like he was holding a pose,
and every inch of him screamed that he was closed off and done with the
conversation. Anything said, anything done, seemed like it would only bounce
off, useless and ineffective. Hanekoma cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sure thing,
Joshua.”
vi.
“Am I nice to everyone?”
Kitaniji stared at him, hand hovering halfway through the motion of returning a
bottle to the shelf, and sighed.
“I’m not playing guessing games with you, Sanae.”
“Just answer the question.” Hanekoma tilted his glass to the side, watching the
ice and the last of his drink slosh around at the bottom.
“You were never normally this belligerent when you came to drink in the middle
of the afternoon before.” He started tidying up again, but after another few
minutes, silent except for the murmured conversations of other patrons in the
bar, Kitaniji did as asked. “You certainly take it upon yourself to seem
personable. So yes, I suppose you are nice to everyone.”
“Shit.” Hanekoma drained the rest of his drink, sliding the glass over the
counter to Kitaniji, who took it and emptied the leftover ice into the sink.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about, or am I going to have to answer
more inane questions?”
“I’d hate you if I didn’t know you for so long.” Kitaniji ignored him,
attention fixed on the dishes he was cleaning, but Hanekoma knew when he
started speaking again, the other would listen. “So there’s this kid at my
teaching gig. He’s a spoiled brat at first glance—well, a few glances after
that too, but there’s more to him. He’s smart. A musical genius. He got me to
draw something again. I guess that means he inspires me, in some way, but I
think I messed up recently.”
“Mm. How?” He started mixing alcohol in a cocktail shaker, motion practiced
enough to seem effortless, but his head was tilted, interestedly, in Hanekoma’s
direction.
“He’s a little…prickly, I guess. Gets bored easy. Doesn’t like to get close to
people. I asked him if he believed me when I said I liked him just as he is,
and he said he didn’t know because I’m ‘nice to everyone’. I think I might’ve
given him the wrong idea.”
“It sounds like you’re upset he doesn’t think you hold him in special regard.”
After pouring the drink out into a new, ice-filled glass, he placed it in front
of Hanekoma, sighing again. “Do I need to spell out everything that is wrong
with that?”
“Megumi, you are the last person who should be taking any kinda moral high
ground.” He wiped some of the condensation off with a napkin before taking a
long sip, relishing the warm burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat. “But
yeah. I guess that’s the short synopsis.”
“Just making sure you’re aware, is all.” Kitaniji shrugged, unruffled. “I was
about to say, you’re overdue for a scandal. All artists have them.”
“No. No, nothing like—no.” Hanekoma took another swig, shooting the other a
glare over the rim of his glass. “There’s a difference between playing
favorites and that.”
“You’re saying you’ve never thought about it?”
“That’s not the point.” Fuck Kitaniji for putting thoughts into his head when
he was tipsy. “He’s not gonna talk to me again.”
“Why are you so sure?” Hanekoma shook his head at the question, listening to
the clink-clink of the ice on the side of the glass as he rolled it between his
palms.
“I get the feeling I was convenient entertainment.” And that was, undoubtedly,
what Joshua would leave it as. What reason could he have to come by during the
new school year, when he hadn’t been by the office since that day? When he left
the final art class of the year without a single hint of acknowledgement?
“You don’t know for certain.” Hanekoma snorted, nearly getting alcohol up his
nose as he tried to drink at the same time.
“Cut the sympathetic bartender act, Megumi. It’s never worked for you.”
“All I’m saying, is that there’s a new school year after the break. In the
meantime…” He inclined his head towards the nearly-empty glass. “Another?”
“Yeah.” New everything, a fresh start, and when the hell did he start feeling
alone over this? That kid was insidious, endearing in spite of himself.
Hanekoma’s thoughts felt fuzzy, soft at the edges. That was better. “Another.”
***** Do I Wanna Know? *****
Chapter Notes
     I cannot believe this was supposed to be a one shot these chapters
     just keep getting longer. In any case, I hope you’ve all been
     enjoying yourselves so far! I sure have. Random note, but now that
     the chapter titles are showing up, the previous one is referring to
     “Plans” by Birds of Tokyo, and this one is “Do I Wanna Know?” by
     Arctic Monkeys.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
vii.
As usual, the subway was crowded that afternoon, teetering between annoying and
downright claustrophobic. Any other day, Joshua would have spent the ride
quietly watching all the other passengers, but recently his mind had been too
busy, too disquiet for people watching. The last thing he needed was his
thoughts skittering about, mind making connections from stray observations—the
middle schoolers sharing a set of earbuds or the man writing diligently in a
small black notebook—to things Joshua was doing his best to avoid bringing to
the forefront of his consciousness.
Instead, he fixed his gaze to the pieces and parts of the windows he could see,
watching the lights set into the walls of the tunnels shine through at regular
intervals as the train zipped past them. There wasn’t much else to look at
besides that, but the rhythmic flashes made his mind blissfully silent and
blank. Until an elbow nudged his side just below his ribs, too forceful to be
accidental, and he immediately angled his body away, shooting an affronted look
to the person standing next to him.
“You okay? You’ve been zoning out the whole time.”
“Leave him alone, Neku,” Koko said, crossing her legs as she cast a glace up at
the two of them from her seat. “He’s been like that even before school ended.
I’ve totally tried to get it out of him, but he’s not saying anything. So let
him brood.”
“I’m not brooding.” He rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on the handhold.
“I’m fine. Just still a little jetlagged.”
“And before you went on vacation?” Only a vague shrug was given in response,
and while Koko turned her head away, scoffing, Neku’s gaze remained on Joshua.
Pretending not to notice, he fiddled with the strap of his bag and he glanced
off towards the front of the train.
He’d had enough introspection from waiting in terminals and on long
international flights, enough of mulling over his motivations for the words
that slipped out that day in Hanekoma’s office, enough of asking himself what
could possibly have inspired that much emotion and honesty.
It happened by inches, watching the trees changing day by day from the window
of an office, until Hanekoma’s presence became so familiar, a habit, same as
brushing his teeth or slipping on his uniform tie in the mornings. He hadn’t
planned on even acknowledging, much less admitting, that the ease surrounding
their conversations made him want to be an exception, seeped right into his
blood to the point he couldn’t simply dismiss it, like everything else he found
far too troublesome. He debated not showing up at Hanekoma’s office again once
the year started up, distancing himself so their paths diverged as they should,
so he no longer had to deal with the distraction and irritation of his own
uncertainty.
The train rolled to a stop at the next station, and Joshua turned move with the
rest of the passengers out onto the platform, waiting with Neku for Koko to
catch up when they reached an open space. Once together, they ascended the
stairs out of the tunnel, emerging into the mild springtime air clogged with
the smell of the city and white noise of passerby’s conversations.
“Shiki said she was going to meet us there, right, Neku?” Koko asked as she led
them down the sidewalk with conviction, easing through spaces between the
masses of people with practiced ease.
“That’s what she texted me this morning.” He shrugged, sliding his phone out of
his pocket to double check, before catching Joshua’s eye out of his peripheral
vision and lowering his voice. “She’s right, you’ve been acting weird.”
“I’m afraid you’ve let Koko color your perceptions. There’s nothing wrong.”
“I haven’t—look.” Neku rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I
don’t see you as much as her and even I can tell you’re different today. What’s
up with you?”
“Like I said, jetlag.” He sidestepped a girl dressed in D+B standing in the
middle of the sidewalk, purposefully putting her between him and Neku, which
earned enough time to muster the right nonchalant phrasing before they were
walking side by side once more. “And I’ve had something on my mind lately. It’s
straightened itself out, though. No need to worry.”
“Right.” The suspicious edge to Neku’s tone did not wane. “Mind telling me what
the problem was, at least?”
“Why mention it if it was nothing?” It needed to be nothing, vapors and a
fleeting thought instead of emotions still coiling around Joshua’s insides and
squeezing. Frustrated, Neku finally turned his head away, focusing on the
storefront directly ahead of them and the wooden sign adorned with stylized
cherry blossoms hanging above the door.
“That’s not how it works, Josh,” he muttered, but dropped the conversation in a
beat as they slipped inside and spotted Shiki, staked out at spot near the
front by an open window.
“Sorry if we, like, made you wait forever.” Koko waved, making her way over
with Neku and Joshua trailing behind, maneuvering between chairs and patrons
gathering their things to leave. The teashop was downright buzzing with
chatter, people dressed in business attire and bold visual kei alike scattered
around the low-seated tables, talking over steaming mugs and plates full of
macaroons and cake and wagashi.
“It’s okay! I wasn’t waiting long…and maybe it’s good that I did get here
earlier. This place is kind of packed.” Shiki shook her head, smiling in
reassurance. “But it’s really nice to see you, Koko. And Joshua. How have you
been?”
“Oh, just fine. New York was interesting.” The casual mention sparked a wave of
questions about his trip, which Joshua answered one by one until the topic
drifted away from him and he was left to peruse the menu in relative peace. All
the while he was talking, and ordering, and fiddling with the corner of his
napkin, he felt a fraction of Neku’s attention constantly focused on him, the
other’s concern and misgivings a nagging tug at the edge of his thoughts. That
stubbornness, as much as he admired it, was downright aggravating sometimes.
When they were served, Joshua took a moment to indulge in the familiar,
soothing scent of green tea, shoulders relaxing at the first sip. Shiki and
Koko were deeply engaged in a conversation about DIY fashion, so the chance of
eavesdropping or an interruption was low. He subtly angled his chair towards
Neku, meeting his gaze just as he was about to take a bite of sesame mochi.
“What?” Neku put the treat down, eyeing Joshua skeptically.
“Have you ever wanted to be important to someone, Neku?”
“Yeah. I guess.” Eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement, he leaned over the table
slightly, as if proximity could grant him better insight to Joshua’s words. “Is
this about what’s been bugging you?”
“It’s just a question.” Joshua shrugged, widely, tracing his fingertip around
the rim of his cup.
“Right.” The word was drawn out, long and incredulous. “Nothing you ever ask is
just a question.”
“I’d still like an answer.”
“I gave you one.” Neku picked up his mochi again, teeth clicking together when
he bit down harder than necessary out of exasperation. Giggling, Joshua took a
long sip of tea and watched the other chew. “S’weird, though. That someone
caught your attention.”
“What do you mean?” He wrinkled his nose, mostly out of distaste for Neku
talking with his mouth full.
“Since when do you care about other people at all?”
“You have a point.” Joshua tipped his mug to the side, watching the fragments
of leaves at the bottom tilt as well. “It’s not really like me to get caught up
in such things. Which is why I’m putting a stop to it.”
“You’re just gonna ignore it?” For a long, tense moment, all Neku did was
stare, the murmur of other voices and the clink of silverware and Koko’s high,
ringing laughter as heavy as pure silence would be in the interim. Eventually,
he leaned back in his chair, arms folded, and heaved a sigh. “You sure?”
“Am I sure?” Joshua echoed, quirking an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I mean—dammit, I’m not going to try and yank out of you what’s really
going on, because I won’t get anywhere. But it seems like you’re giving up on
something or someone that means a lot.” His tone softened, just a fraction,
even if the incisiveness of his gaze didn’t. “Whatever you like, whatever it is
that makes you want to be important…you’ll be cutting that off. Is that what
you want, Josh?”
He opened his mouth to reply—of course, silly Neku, that’s exactly what the
plan is—before the comprehension really hit, constricting his chest to the
point it felt difficult to breathe for a short, piercing moment. Was he really
willing to give up what gave him so much solace, the exchanges that put him at
ease, one of the few, precious people who really did seem to see Joshua as
Joshua? Was whatever anxiety creeping at the edges of his mind worth throwing
away the very thing he needed to keep? He had hoped, desperately, that Hanekoma
wasn’t just appeasing him, that their relationship wasn’t about the same easy
understanding he offered everyone, because Joshua wanted.
Something else. Something more.
“Since when did you become so perceptive and sensible?” He fell into teasing
when he finally spoke up, but Neku’s eyes immediately narrowed in annoyance,
and Joshua decided to add, “thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So long as you stop acting weird,” Neku huffed, shifting his attention to
Shiki, who was attempting to draw him back into the conversation, while Koko
busied herself with taking a snapshot of her food to upload later onto her
fashion blog. Joshua only made a quiet, acknowledging noise, staring down into
his cup and his washed-out reflection on the surface of the tea.
So much for quieter thoughts.
viii.
The last of the cherry blossoms were gone. Hanekoma made the trek to his office
that morning with barely a sprinkle of petals across the lawns and sidewalks,
when just a little while before, they covered the campus like a fine dusting of
snow. He always felt more wistful at the end of spring than at any other time,
not relishing having to trade light sunshine and wind for long, baking summer
days. The approach of winter never gave him such grief.
He was debating whether or not it was admitting defeat if he cracked open the
window, when a light knock sounded at the door. Thinking it was one of his
newer students wanting clarification or reassurance that they weren’t going to
fail if they’ve never taken an art class before, he called come in without
looking up from the sketchbooks he was examining.
“I hope this isn’t a bad time.” His head shot up at the sound of the voice, a
shock running through him when he recognized that distinctive lilt, somehow
self-satisfied and dulcet all at once.
“Joshua.” The name was barely choked out, surprise and something terrifyingly
like relief rendering him nearly speechless. How like the other to show up so
casually when Hanekoma had barely gotten over expecting visits in the
afternoons, when lingering hope had finally been doused into nothing but faint
wisps. But in the time it took him to find his voice once more, he was given no
explanation, only an expectant stare that remained unblinking until he cleared
his throat. “No, no, not a bad time at all. Have a seat, it’s been a while.”
“It has,” Joshua agreed, moving further into the office and dropping his bag
down by the chair. “I’ve been…settling in, I guess you could say.”
“Second year that tough already?” Despite the innocence of the question,
Hanekoma received only a vague gesture in response, and knew well enough that
pressing the issue would get him nowhere fast. “Hope your break was all right,
at least.”
“It was. I visited New York City with my parents.” Relaxed. Blasé. Like not a
day had passed since he was in that chair. It was downright frustrating to have
him act like nothing had been amiss, act like he hadn’t been upset, leaving all
of Hanekoma’s prior distress and conflict for naught. But what could he really
say that wouldn’t also be admitting just how deep his fondness for Joshua
really ran, how much of an exception he really was? How his gaze gravitated to
the other’s collar and the patch of pale, pale skin offset by the dark maroon
of his tie, so much like how a mark made by lips and teeth in the same spot
would be— “Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see anything on Broadway, but I did
wander around the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a few hours.”
“Ah, I remember a piece or two of mine was in an exhibit there a while back.”
He tipped his head back, feigning reminiscence as an excuse to drag his eyes
away from Joshua, but it didn’t stop his thoughts from wandering, to the
elation and relief over knowing the other wasn’t fading out of Hanekoma’s life
as easily as he wedged himself into it. “Y’know, it’s good to see you, Joshua.”
“You too, Sanae.”
“Hey.” At that, he straightened, shooting an affronted look over the rim of his
sunglasses. “Since when are you on first name basis with your teacher?”
“Former teacher,” Joshua corrected, smile both familiarly smug and edged with
something more, an intent and invitation. Hanekoma ignored it, swallowing hard
against the way his throat and pit of his stomach tightened.
“That’s not the point.”
“Haven’t we known each other long enough to move past formalities?” That
counter was missing the true intention as well, but knowing Joshua, he wasn’t
going to listen even if he was given a good reason to.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Hanekoma conceded, touching the back of his neck,
uneasily. As if picking up on his nervousness, Joshua’s smile widened a sliver,
victorious, and something finally clicked. The brat was playing games, again.
Trying to get what he wanted without saying so. “Guess I don’t mind, if it’s
you.”
“Well…” He faltered slightly when he realized he was caught, gaze shifting away
as he curled a stray strand of hair around his index finger. If Hanekoma
couldn’t get honest answers from him, at least he could pry out honest
reactions. “I was thinking about it, and the opportunity just presented itself.
But if you say there’s no problem, then there’s no problem.”
“It’s fine, Josh.” He shouldn’t have used the nickname, shouldn’t have
reciprocated, since it was bad enough he was allowing over-familiarity on
Joshua’s part, but the action earned him a genuine smile and any correction or
stipulations died on his tongue.
“Good to know.” Casting a glance to the clock set on the wall behind Hanekoma,
he pursed his lips in displeasure and reached down to grab the strap of his
bag. “And I hate to cut this short, but I’m afraid I’m already keeping Inoue-
sensei waiting.”
“You shoulda told me.” He froze, momentarily, as the implications of Joshua
choosing a visit over piano flashed through his mind. Despite the other
complaining, occasionally, about boredom or exhaustion from it, he took music
seriously. Cutting into his practice just for this—Hanekoma shook his head and
made a shooing motion towards the exit. “Don’t let her know it was me that kept
you. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“My lips are sealed.” Joshua stood, wiggling his fingers in a brief wave before
he turned away from the desk. “I’ll come by whenever I have time again.”
“Door’s always open.” Even if the other didn’t catch the words as he slipped
out into the hallway, he likely knew he was welcome. Hanekoma had never denied
him company before.
He heaved a sigh once Joshua was out of sight, setting his students’
sketchbooks aside. No use in going over them now that his concentration was
shot, attention spent on convincing himself that he could still take a step
back from the edge, that he wasn’t already at the bottom of a vastly cavernous
chasm, or stuck in a mire of his own making, his token, halfhearted struggles
only serving to drag him deep, deep, deep under.
Opening the window, finally, did nothing to mitigate the stifling air in the
office, even when Hanekoma stood by it and tried to catch whatever lazy breeze
was ruffling the topmost leaves of the trees in the courtyard below.
At the very start, he really had been trying to be kind. But curiosity drove
him further, and real attachment further still, until everything he hadn’t
meant to let happen built up enough momentum that he was faced with an
inevitability, like the heat of the days laid out before them both.
ix.
Routine reformed, once Joshua started coming by the office at regular intervals
again. Hanekoma could almost be fooled into thinking it was exactly the same as
the previous year, if it wasn’t for flashes of things Joshua would have never
let slip before—a brief phone call with his mother that revealed he spoke
fluent English, visible frustration and concern over composing difficult
pieces—that sliced right through any semblance of normalcy.
“This kid is going to be the death of me,” he would lament to Kitaniji, who did
nothing but raise a single eyebrow and offer up another drink.
“It’s your own fault,” he responded, every time without fail, speaking a truth
Hanekoma couldn’t swallow without washing it down with the alcohol he was
given.
Autumn came in with little fanfare, a gradient of sweltering afternoons slowly
merging into crisp, cool mornings. It was getting towards the midpoint of the
year, and Hanekoma decided to give his more advanced classes a chance to view a
gallery. Most seemed unwilling to take time out of their precious weekend for
the trip, until he uttered the magic phrase extra credit and they practically
pushed each other out of the way to sign up.
The day of the outing was brilliantly clear, the sky a bright, vivid contrast
against the orange and red and yellow of the changing leaves. The picturesque
weather brought a good turnout on top of good moods, made better when Hanekoma
assured his students no arduous worksheet would have to be filled out. Instead,
he left them to wander at their leisure after he made sure of who showed up and
who didn’t, watching as they all scattered off in different groups, chattering
in hushed tones about what to see first.
He swept through the gallery unhurriedly, appraising the pieces and answering
questions his students posed when they came by. Quietly, Hanekoma was pleased
to see some of them scribbling down the names of certain artists and notes
about technique, undoubtedly to try their own hand at later. He could recognize
inspiration in them, sparking and intense, even if it continued to elude him in
his own endeavors.
After an hour or so, the students gradually began to trickle towards the exit,
some rushing off to various activities they had planned, others opting to stick
around and see more art for a while longer. Eventually, when there was only a
handful left, Hanekoma meandered just outside the entrance, taking a deep
breath of the crisp air. He found his eye drawn to a splash of dramatic color
amongst all the grey concrete of the steps leading up to the gallery, and
noticed Koko standing idly nearby, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her
hair had hinted at her fashion sensibilities, but seeing her head to toe in
pastels and patterned tights and beaded bracelets was a startling difference
from the subdued tones of her usual school uniform.
“Hi, Mr. H,” she said, smiling, when she spotted him as well.
“Hey, Koko. You not heading home yet?”
“I’m, like, waiting for someone.” Heaving a sigh, she folded her arms and
pointedly glanced out towards the street. “Joshua, actually! He’s totally
late.”
“You two have a hot date or somethin’?” He had to bite back a laugh when the
quip earned an eye roll, overdone and exasperated.
“That’s real funny, Mr. H.” Scoffing, Koko angled her body around to rifle
through her purse, in the shape of a shooting star with a pale rainbow tail,
and pulled out her phone. “Since I like, had to come to this thing, I would’ve
missed a super exclusive release at a store today. So Joshua said, since he’d
be out shopping already, he’d pick me up what I wanted. He told me he’d come
and give it to me too, but like, he’s not showing up and I seriously need to go
soon.”
“Ah, well. Sounds like par for the course when it comes to him.” Hanekoma
shrugged, hearing Koko make an affirmative noise after he turned his head
towards the sidewalk as well. “Always needs to make an entrance.”
There was no excuse, no real reason to wait around with Koko, he knew. He
should leave, make something up if he had to, but the prospect of seeing Joshua
out of uniform and out of school and out of that entire context was an enticing
notion, one that kept Hanekoma rooted to the spot.
The impatient tapping of Koko’s foot against the ground had just increased in
tempo and intensity when Joshua finally emerged out of the crowds shuffling by,
adjusting the shopping bags in his hand before he began trotting up the steps.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said when he finally reached them, pushing a windswept
lock of hair out of his eyes. “The lines were unbelievable.”
“Yeah, yeah, but did you get it?” Koko bounced in place, expression immediately
brightening upon seeing Joshua pull out a small bag printed with a stylized
rabbit logo and royal purple tissue paper sticking out of the top.
“One limited edition Lapin Angelique eye shadow palette, just for you.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re the best, Joshua!” After taking the gift, Koko hopped down
to the step the other was standing on and pulled him into a delighted one-armed
hug. “I owe you a super huge favor, but I really gotta go right now, so later,
okay? And I’ll see you in class, Mr. H!”
Joshua watched as she bounded down to the sidewalk and disappeared into the
throng of the city, before he turned his attention to Hanekoma, head tilted
slightly in contemplation. Despite his fashion choices not quite being as loud
as Koko’s—charcoal grey coat and dark washed jeans offset by a jade green
scarf—it was no less striking seeing him against the backdrop of a place far
away from campus and classrooms and the office.
“Do you want to go get some coffee with me?”
“What?” Hanekoma blinked, rapidly, eyebrows furrowing at the suddenness and
downright absurdity of the question.
“Coffee,” Joshua repeated. “I know a café around here that serves real Italian
espresso, and—”
“I know what you meant.” He held up a silencing hand, shaking his head. “But
you can’t just make me a substitute ‘cause Koko’s unavailable to hang out.”
“Who said you were a substitute?” Strangely, there was a flicker of a smile
across Joshua’s features, and something snapped into place. Going out of his
way to make a delivery just as nearly everyone else was gone— “Are you coming
or not?”
“You’re an incorrigible brat, J.” But the nickname and the lack of any real
bitterness in his tone was concession enough. When did such a tiny, hidden soft
spot become the breadth of the Pacific?
“Is that a yes?” The questioning tone was feigned, for show. Joshua had his
answer already, made obvious when he pivoted around and started heading down
the steps towards the street, never glancing back once. Exhaling, slow and
heavy, Hanekoma slipped his hands into his pockets before following after him.
Joshua was quiet on the walk over, apparently content with companionable
silence for half a dozen blocks. The café in question was a tiny place squeezed
between a boutique and an electronics store, the glass-paned door painted a
vivid crimson. A silver bell hanging over it chimed as they slipped inside, the
cozy space and warmth a stark difference to the increasingly chilly weather
outdoors.
Seeing Joshua out of uniform was different, seeing him casually going through
the motions of ordering was different, but the situation in its entirety didn’t
feel as incongruous as it likely should. It was just a transplant, a change of
stage props, but before Hanekoma could really process that spending time with
Joshua had become comfortable in any and all circumstances, the cashier shot
him a look just shy of irritated for holding up the line.
After getting his coffee and taking an experimental sip, he made his way over
to the table where Joshua was already seated, turned towards the window as his
eyes followed the people walking back and forth along the street outside.
“This isn’t half bad,” Hanekoma commented, sliding into the chair across from
the other. He had another, longer drink, letting the liquid sit on his tongue
for a second more. “Balanced…I’d still like it a little more bitter, but that’s
just personal taste.”
“Is that right?” Joshua angled his body so he was facing forward once more.
“You didn’t strike me as the connoisseur type.”
“I’m not. I know my way around coffee, is all.” Thanks to a good deal of trial
and error over the years. “I tinker around with it enough on my own.”
“You tinker?” Snorting, Joshua moved to pick up his mug, expression stuck
halfway between amusement and incredulity. “I’ll have to tell Koko about your
real hobbies. She has this view of you that’s far more glamorous and mysterious
than the reality.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.” He leaned back in his chair, the fingers of one hand
still curled around his coffee cup’s handle. “But speakin’ of Koko…you two are
kinda an odd couple. How’d you even meet?”
“Internet.” Hanekoma waited, expectantly, to see if he would get more than a
one-word answer as Joshua paused to sip his latte. “She didn’t go to the same
middle school as me, but near graduation I was after a distraction, so I was
online a lot more.”
“A distraction?”
“I…wasn’t looking forward to attending a different school from Neku.” He
shrugged one shoulder, dismissive and nonchalant, and Hanekoma was left with
wondering how much of Joshua’s attitude when they first met could be attributed
to that separation. “Anyway. Koko runs a fashion blog that I came across, and
after a while, we got to talking. Once we figured out we were headed to the
same high school, we met up a few times over break, and stayed friends once the
year started.”
“See, stayed is the part that’s got me.” Shaking his head, Hanekoma lifted his
mug to his lips, speaking around the rim of it. “But differences are a good
thing.”
“She can be a little pushy at times, but she knows when to not ask questions.”
Joshua stared into the depths of his coffee, long enough that Hanekoma was
about to shift topics, before he reached around to his jacket hanging on the
back of his chair and pulled his phone out of the pocket. He swiped his index
finger across the screen and adjusted his hands so he could type out something
with his thumbs. “I like interesting people, and she’s certainly that. Our
tastes in a lot of things match, too, which is how I started speaking with her
in the first place. Here’s the blog I mentioned.”
Hanekoma took the phone when Joshua offered it, not fully understanding what he
was supposed to take away from the pastel patterned website, but he scrolled
through the posts to humor the other, anyway. He skimmed a few fashion and
cosmetics reviews, noting that Koko could be surprisingly scathing at points,
when he came across a set of photos that gave him pause. The first few were of
food and tea and of Koko in her outfit for that day, but the last one was a
snapshot of her, Joshua, and two others Hanekoma had never seen before.
“Who’s in this with you two?”
“In what?” He leaned over the table, angling his head to get a better look at
the screen. “Oh, that’s Neku and Shiki.”
“So that’s Neku, huh?” His smile in the picture was nearly a grimace, head
ducked down as if to hide behind a fringe of bright orange hair, but Joshua was
turned towards him, the curl of his lips softer and amused. “I take it he’s
interesting, too.”
“Very. We have similar world-views.” At that, Hanekoma made a noncommittal
sound, taking one more glance at the photos before holding out the phone to
return it to Joshua, who merely considered the device but refused to reach for
it. “You know, it just occurred to me. I don’t have your number.”
“There’s good reason for that, Josh,” Hanekoma replied, flatly. “You’re not
gettin’ it.”
“Not even if I say please?” It was difficult to tell how much of his swaying
smile and lowered lashes was an act and how much was genuine, but it left a
crack in Hanekoma’s defenses all the same. “I really don’t see the harm.”
“Joshua.” His tone, harsher than he intended, finally cut through, causing the
other’s expression to falter and then fade into disappointment. “I can’t.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?” Despite the petulance of the accusation, it left
Hanekoma feeling vaguely empty, even when Joshua finally did what was asked of
him, and took his phone back. “Fine. Have it your way.”
After a stretch of tense silence, they gradually fell back into casual
chatting, pausing only to order second cups of coffee and then to leave once
those were finished. Joshua remained sulky for the first leg of it, but
eventually he relaxed into the conversation and the atmosphere, mood buoyed by
the time they stepped back outside into the bracing early evening air.
“You headin’ home?”
“Yes.” Joshua’s voice was muffled from where he’d nestled half his face into
his scarf, but he pulled the fabric away from his mouth so his smirk showed.
“Walk me to the station?”
Wordlessly, Hanekoma gave in to that request, keeping by the other’s side as he
started down the sidewalk. As before, Joshua appeared content with the silence
during their short trip, but an echo of what was said at the café kept
reverberating through Hanekoma’s mind, disquieting his thoughts. Can’t had an
important distinction from won’t, but he didn’t think it was either of those,
just a thin knockoff excuse for one or the other to keep whatever guilt was
brewing in the pit of his stomach at bay.
But why did he even bother putting up pretenses to assure himself that he was
still a half-decent person, when all it ever took for his resolve to splinter
was something from Joshua, a look or a secret smile or a brief opening in his
defenses when he showed true honesty. Or now, when he was walking backwards
towards the station entrance so he could say goodbye, cheeks pink from the cold
and figure silhouetted in the deep colors of the setting sun.
“J. Wait up a sec.” Joshua’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he obeyed, coming
to a stop at a distance that Hanekoma crossed in a few strides. “Gimme your
phone real quick.”
“Sure.” To his credit, his satisfied look was both subdued and transitory, but
still there as he reached into his pocket. When Hanekoma received the phone, he
made a new contact and input his number, exhaling sharply before he pressed the
green save button.
“Just don’t buzz me at all hours, all right?”
“Don’t worry.” Joshua laughed once his phone was returned, and pivoted towards
the station again, his hair swinging around in a mirror of the movement, the
strands catching the last bits of fading sunlight. “Thanks for the date, Sanae.
I had fun.”
Hanekoma waved Joshua off, scoffing at his choice of words and watched his
retreating back, until he disappeared down the stairs and into the depths of
the subway platforms. Well, he thought, still standing in the middle of the
sidewalk while the crowds all surged and shuffled around him, what was one more
shouldn’t have on top of all the others?
x.
A pale light cut through the darkness across Joshua’s vision, interrupting the
mundane stretch of ceiling he’d been peering at for the past hour. His head,
whirring with half-formed musings and too many heavier thoughts had made sleep
difficult, so he was grateful for the distraction. Rolling over and reaching
out to the bedside table, he fumbled for his phone, lifting it up enough to
squint at the screen.
Koko
joshua are u still awake???? ((*゜Д゜)ゞ”
Re:
Just
What is it?
Koko
i got way behind on english so i’m doing it all now and i’m stuck pls help (ﾉ_
_)ﾉ
Re:
You’re really lucky I was up
What do you need translated?
Koko
what does [turn left, and it’s the third building on the right] mean ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ)
Re:
Turn left, and it’s the third building on the right
Koko
thank u!!!! o(^▽^)o
i’m super awful at this direction stuff
Re:
No problem
Any more?
Koko
ummmmm idk (・・。)ゞ
i might run across another ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ
how long are u planning on staying up
His thumbs twitched, already moving to draft a reply, but before he could even
tap out a single word, he exhaled sharply in frustration, letting his phone
slip from his fingers and land lightly onto his stomach. In theory, sleep was
the best option, but although his eyes felt gritty from exhaustion, his mind
refused to settle. He hadn’t been this conflicted since the start of the school
year, but while that had been solved by Neku giving him a push, his friend was
likely fast asleep right now, and unlikely to answer any texts or calls.
Besides, the second time around he’d be more inclined to ask questions.
Suspicious, probing ones Joshua didn’t really want to answer.
In spite of all the progress he’d made, worming his way further and further
into Hanekoma’s life, it wasn’t enough. His mother often complained, in the
half-fond way all parents did, that he was the type to take a whole mile when
given an inch, but Joshua never thought of it as anything else but getting
exactly what he wanted. And he was tired of feeling like he was perched,
balancing, walking back and forth along a fence, instead of jumping over to the
opposite side.
Quickly, he snatched his phone back up and replied to Koko, dropping back onto
his pillows as he pulled up his contacts to compose a new text. He sent it off
just as his phone blinked to inform him of a return message.
Koko
u are the best!!!!! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ
i’ll try to be really quick so u won’t stay up too long
Followed shortly by another, from a different sender:
Sanae
What happened to not texting me in the middle of the night?
Re:
I’ve been good before this
Sanae
So what’s different this time?
Re:
I can’t sleep
Sanae
I’m not telling you a bedtime story
Re:
I didn’t ask you to
I just wanted to talk a bit
Sanae
About what?
Re:
Nothing in particular
Maybe what you’re wearing
Sanae
That’s a flat joke Josh
Re:
You’re probably still smiling about it
Sanae
Yeah yeah and as much as I’d like to be on the other end of your brand of humor
all night
I got a job to head to in the morning
Re:
And I have class so what’s your point?
Sanae
Go to bed
Koko had sent a text ten minutes earlier, relieving Joshua of his translating
duties, so he no longer had a reason to fight against the drowsiness finally
beginning to creep over him. He replied to Hanekoma with a short, goodnight,
but the moment he set his phone aside and turned over, the screen brightened
again.
Sanae
Sweet dreams J
xi.
In hindsight, he should have been paying more attention, but it was one of
those late, late winter days, where the air was still biting regardless of
spring’s valiant efforts to claw through the lingering frost, so it was
practically expected that Joshua would stop by for a respite from the cold. The
click after the door shut that sounded suspiciously like a lock sliding into
place should have been more alarming, but by that time Joshua had already
started talking, which was a distraction Hanekoma couldn’t ever fully ignore.
“I have a concert coming up.” He dropped his bag by the chair and began
unbuttoning his coat, but even when he was finished and draped the garment over
the armrest, he didn’t move to sit. “A week before the end of the year.”
“I heard something about that from Inoue.” Hanekoma watched him, carefully, as
he started meandering closer, glancing around casually like this was his first
time in the office. “Is this your way of invitin’ me?”
“It is.” Joshua paused long enough for a nod and an askance look. “You haven’t
been to any of my other ones, and I think you should hear me play live at least
once.”
“All right, point taken.” Feigning sheepishness, Hanekoma held up both hands
placatingly, but he tossed Joshua a brief grin. “I’ll be there.”
“Promise?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, J,” he affirmed, wariness growing as Joshua
lingered longer in the narrow passage between the desk and the far left wall,
standing directly on the invisible line that separated the communal space from
Hanekoma’s. “You’re not gonna have a seat?”
“In a second.” The path of his gaze was idle, roaming across papers and shelves
and sketchbooks like he was merely observing his surroundings from another
vantage point, but there was a sharpness about it that belied any true
nonchalance, an intensity that made Hanekoma’s throat tighten when their eyes
finally met.
There wasn’t a single sliver of hesitation, no time for Hanekoma to work words
out that would diffuse the sudden charge in the air, before Joshua took the
three steps that made up the distance between them and dropped right down into
Hanekoma’s lap.
“Joshua—” He shouldn’t know the other’s shampoo smelled like lavender and mint,
shouldn’t know the shape of the shadows his eyelashes cast, shouldn’t be this
close. “Get off. This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking.” Reaching up, Joshua gripped the chair’s backrest, using the
hold as leverage to adjust his position so he was straddling Hanekoma’s hips.
“And if you’re going to say something like this is wrong, or that I’m a kid and
I don’t know what I want, or that I’m going to regret this, I don’t care. And
somehow…I don’t think you really do either.”
Pointedly, he lowered his gaze down to his waist, where Hanekoma was holding
him, palms pressed snugly against the curve of his sides. It had been
instinctual, to balance him when he’d started moving, but seconds and minutes
were ticking by, and Hanekoma still hadn’t let go, kept pressing wrinkles into
the wool of Joshua’s uniform cardigan.
“Tell me to stop,” he begged, clinging to the last unraveling thread of
control, but Joshua didn’t say a word, tacit refusal made clear as he leaned
forward, eyes falling half lidded just before their lips met.
It all came apart at that touch, at Joshua’s pliant, soft mouth sliding over
his own, and Hanekoma returned the kiss without an ounce of uncertainty,
curling one arm around the other’s back to tug him closer and keep him there.
His other hand skimmed up Joshua’s chest, trailing over the column of his neck
before resting, cupped, at the back of his head. A shiver ran through Joshua
when Hanekoma tangled his fingers more into that pretty, pretty hair, followed
by a hitch in his breathing.
As if surprised by the intensity, he pulled back just enough to inhale shakily,
still staring back at Hanekoma with eyes that had wide, lust-blown pupils. His
lips parted, and since there was absolutely no reason to resist temptation now,
Hanekoma pressed forward to suck and nip at the fuller, pouty bottom one before
slanting his mouth up and slipping his tongue past the other’s teeth.
Kissing Joshua was decadent, a swig of good alcohol and espresso flavored
chocolate, and he could feel the tremble of Joshua’s moan against him more than
hear it. His hands had dropped down to Hanekoma’s shoulders, fingers twisting
into the fabric covering them as he let their tongues curl together, hot and
languid. Every flick and slide was a rush, and between it all Hanekoma shifted
his hand over to cradle Joshua’s cheek, thumb brushing over the bone there
before he tipped the other’s head back, breaking the kiss and exposing the
subtle arch of his neck.
“Why’d you—” He heard Joshua try to speak, voice stuttering and breathless,
before Hanekoma started stamping a line of soft, wet kisses up his throat and
the words crumbled into a high gasp. “Sanae.”
Lingering over the other’s pulse, he could feel it flutter and kick up in tempo
when he ran his teeth lightly over the same spot and somehow, somehow
maintained enough sanity to drag his mouth away before he could pull up a real,
lasting mark. He couldn’t, however, keep his hands from inching under the back
of Joshua’s uniform, fingertips tracing half circles against the warm, smooth
skin just above the hemline of his pants. Joshua shuddered, thighs squeezing
around Hanekoma’s legs and—shit, this really was going to kill him.
Every sound Joshua made, every sigh and half-moan, was honey-sweet, drizzling
heat down Hanekoma’s spine until he leaned up to swallow those noises with
another kiss. And another, and another, separating and coming together in a
slow, deep rhythm. There was no way he wouldn’t know every single contour of
Joshua’s mouth, wouldn’t have his taste memorized, by the end of this.
Faintly, he registered that the buzzing in his ears wasn’t entirely caused by
blood rushing through, but instead came from Joshua’s bag, still resting by the
chair on the other side of the desk. Barely ten seconds passed between the
moment it stopped to when it started up again, and the knowledge that they were
in a position where they could get caught finally made it through the pleasured
haze surrounding Hanekoma’s mind. He pulled away entirely, regretting it the
moment he set eyes on Joshua, flushed with kiss-swollen lips and a thin string
of saliva still connecting them.
“You should probably get that,” he managed. “I think it’s been going off for a
while.”
Joshua looked just as reluctant, but he slid off Hanekoma’s lap, regardless,
absently wiping his mouth as he went over to his bag. He slid his phone out of
one of the side pockets, frowning at the screen before he answered it.
“Hello? Sorry, it was really loud where I was…no. Not really, but—okay. Okay,
sure…for just a little while longer, I’ll be home soon…I will, don’t worry.
Right. Okay. You too, bye.” Under a different circumstance, Hanekoma might have
been impressed at how quickly and how well Joshua schooled his voice into
something so even and composed. As it was, he only watched the other blankly as
he put his phone away again, and lifted his bag over his shoulder. “That was my
mother. She wants me to run an errand for her.”
“I take it that means you gotta run.”
“Unfortunately.” Joshua straightened out his clothing, smoothing out wrinkles
and tugging at his shirt so it set right. He finished by quickly running his
fingers through his hair, not doing much to mitigate how mussed it had gotten,
but at least he no longer looked like he’d just had Hanekoma’s hands all over
him. “See you later?”
“You know where to find me.” That was a sad excuse for an answer, shouldn’t be
enough to soothe the flicker of uncertainty behind that cool mask Joshua put
on, but he seemed to accept it, and headed towards the exit. Partway through,
he grabbed the doorframe and stopped, leaning back into the room.
“Don’t forget about the concert.” His smile, wide and shockingly genuine, with
a flash of white teeth and all, caused something akin to both guilt and quiet
affection to bloom in the center of Hanekoma’s chest.
But Joshua was gone, vanished down the hall out of sight, before he could think
of anything more to say. Only the remnant, ghostly sensation of the other’s
body pressed against him remained, until that too faded away, and his office
became as cold as it had been at the start.
xii.
Joshua had combed through all the faces in the audience at least three times,
but he still continued trying to catch more glimpses, until he snapped Inoue-
sensei’s last nerve, and she dragged him back from the wings.
“What has gotten into you? You’ve been distracted this whole time.” She clicked
her tongue, chastising and severe. “It’s a good thing this didn’t bleed into
your performance.”
“Sorry,” Joshua replied, although he couldn’t even bring himself to feign
remorse. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“That’s understandable, I suppose, concerning your third year is approaching
rapidly…” Her assumption was far off the truth of the matter, but Joshua let it
stand. There was no need for her, or anyone else, to know he was searching for
someone particular in the crowd, to know he’d been dropping by the office for
the past two weeks only to find it locked, to know just how much a broken
promise and that rejection stung. “But I can’t have you disturbing any of the
other performers or stagehands. Go into the dressing room if you’re too antsy.”
He obeyed without protest, not keen on risking Inoue-sensei’s anger only to
swallow back more disappointment when, inevitably, he didn’t see Hanekoma in
attendance. His actions that afternoon had been beyond reciprocated, and Joshua
was sure, so sure, he wouldn’t be avoided afterwards. But in the time since,
the only instances he saw Hanekoma was in the halls in passing, and sitting
with the rest of the staff at assemblies. Every glimpse caused a pang, a little
more painful than the last, and Joshua was beginning to think being told
outright that it was a mistake, that everything involving him was a mistake,
was preferable to this indecisive state.
He really should have known, should have done as he originally planned, and
kept his distance from the start. Maybe then he wouldn’t be here, mechanically
weaving his way through busy stagehands and nervous musicians, feeling like he
was weighed down by lead bars stacked in his chest cavity.
Neku’s advice turned out terrible. He’d tell the other as much when they met up
in the lobby after the final performance. But that meant he’d have to pull
himself together in the meantime, to avoid curious looks and well-meaning
concern. Koko was already suspicious and he didn’t want to give her more odd
behavior to pick apart, didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think
about it anymore, because every time he did, it was a reminder, another
agonizing half-inch twist of the knife.
When he finally reached the dressing room, he didn’t notice anything was
different until he was halfway to his designated mirror. Unlike every other
part of the place, covered in makeup kits and stray articles of clothing, his
countertop was occupied by a large, beautiful bouquet of red and yellow tulips,
tied with a silky off-white ribbon. He approached it slowly, noticing a card
nestled in-between the blossoms once he was within arms reach. He trailed his
hand along some of the flowers, lingering over the petals, before taking the
paper and turning it over to read it.
Told you I wouldn’t miss it. You were great out there, J.
There was no signature, but it wasn’t needed, since only one person in the
world called him that particular nickname. Joshua sat, heavily, down on chair
in front of the mirror and staring blankly at his own reflection. There had
been only one window of time he hadn’t been glancing at the audience, and that
was when he was playing on stage. Joshua didn’t know if the knowledge that
Hanekoma came at the start of his performance, and then left exactly when it
finished, made things better or worse, but it was a gesture that nonetheless
broke the silence hanging over the past couple of weeks. This delivery had
taken time and thought and effort, and it was just for him. Just for Joshua.
He didn’t know how long he remained there, wondering if this was an apology, or
a message, or if he should take what the flower language revealed to heart, but
it was long enough that eventually Inoue-sensei sent someone to fetch him. He
was forced to gather up the bouquet and put on a smile for his friends and
colleagues, hoping their worries over whatever they saw in his expression could
be brushed off with an excuse about exhaustion.
The card sat surreptitiously in his pocket, its corners and edges digging into
the softer parts of his hand whenever he reached inside, another prickling
reminder of an absence, the looming negative space of someone who physically
was not there, but whose presence would not leave Joshua alone.
Chapter End Notes
     Some notes I didn’t feel like putting at the top, because they’d
     reveal too much about what was within the story. Wagashi are little
     tea snacks, often made from things like mochi, azuki bean paste,
     fruit, and a kind of gelatin. They’re sometimes molded into cute
     shapes. Go do a google image search of them, you’ll see a bunch of
     neat ones! As for the tulips, I do have the headcanon that they’re
     Hanekoma’s favorite flowers, since they remind him of paintbrushes,
     but their meaning does matter. Currently, yellow tulips are supposed
     to have a meaning of cheerfulness and good times, but originally,
     they meant hopeless love. Red, on the other hand, is a declaration of
     affection, and has the connotation of sincerity. Together, they’re
     supposed to convey this idea of “I care for you deeply, but I feel
     that it’s hopeless/difficult.”
***** Tiptoe Through the True Bits *****
Chapter Notes
     Wow, sorry for the wait on this. Life got way, way in the way. And
     then Flight Rising happened, damn those pixel dragons. Anyway, enough
     apologies, I'm sure you just want to get straight to the story,
     especially since this is the chapter that Explicit rating is for.
     Besides that, if you're easily emotional, now might be the time to
     grab some tissues. Or a snack and a drink, because this thing is
     LONG. Chapter title is "Tiptoe Through the True Bits" by Los
     Campesinos! Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
xiii.
In the small space of grass between the line of cherry trees in the quad and
one of the walls surrounding campus, it was quiet. Joshua only heard the breeze
rustling the branches and the distant murmur of stragglers still wandering
around after the entrance ceremony. Koko had already gone ahead to class,
having neither self-study first thing in the morning nor wavy hair that was
prone to catching petals in the dips and curves of its strands. Joshua, on the
other hand, was saddled with both.
He picked another bit of cherry blossom out of his hair with a frustrated huff,
letting it flutter to the ground while thinking of what he could do to fill his
new free time in the mornings. A few months ago, he’d go straight to Hanekoma’s
office to kill an hour talking, but now, he had days, weeks, an entire year of
what amounted to continuous boredom. He supposed he could keep trying, keep
stopping by no matter what, but it took someone with far more maturity and less
of an ego than Joshua not to let thoughts that festered over spring break turn
into bitterness.
In the midst of his brooding, Joshua vaguely thought he heard his name being
called, but wrote it off as the birds’ chatter or the distant sound of a car
horn, until it was repeated, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Hanekoma
making his way between the tree trunks. His first instinct was to turn on his
heel and head in the opposite direction, but he couldn’t quite tap down the
elation that burst in the center of his chest over their first real meeting in
what felt like ages, so he simply glanced away instead, eyes fixed towards the
buildings at the far end of the quad.
“You sure didn’t make yourself easy to find.”
“Oh, were you looking for me? That’s such a rare occurrence, I didn’t know to
make myself available.” Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed Hanekoma’s
shoulders slump a fraction. “But why did you want to see me?”
“Why d’you think? I wanted to talk.” He winced under the scathing look Joshua
shot him, one hand coming up to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck. The
gesture was common, familiar, but it sent a pang through Joshua nonetheless,
reminding him it really hadn’t been that long since they’d spoken—certainly not
long enough to forget little things like that—but it had felt like a decade.
Rejection and uncertainly made time crawl.
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you need to talk to me about, Mr. H.”
“Hey, c’mon.” Hanekoma’s voice quieted, and it took Joshua only a few more
seconds to realize the change in tone was because of hurt. He finally shifted
to face the other fully, taking in the pained, pinched tinge to Hanekoma’s
expression. “I know you’re probably mad at me, and you have a dozen reasons to
be, but could ya at least not act like we’re strangers, J? I’m really sorry.”
“An explanation would be a good start,” Joshua replied, feigning impassiveness
with a shrug, but his gaze was focused, incisive, waiting for the answers to
questions that had gnawed at him for weeks.
“I had to work out some things, I guess you could say. It was stupid of me to
ignore you, but I felt if I didn’t, you’d…well. I doubt you’d let me get my
thoughts straight.” Hanekoma tried a grin, which Joshua didn’t return, before
he heaved a sigh and opened his mouth like he was going to speak up again,
until something caught his eye. He pursed his lips, brow furrowing. “Hang on a
sec—”
Joshua watched as Hanekoma reached towards him, a sudden sharp jolt of surprise
and excitement running through him when he assumed he was going to be touched
or pulled forward into a kiss, but he only felt some of his hair shift. A
moment later, Hanekoma held up a cherry blossom petal in response to his
inquisitive look, and then let it drop, idly following its path as it caught
the sudden gust of wind, to be blown away somewhere else.
“Thank you.” Self-consciously, Joshua patted the same side of his head, wishing
he could stamp down the prickling of disappointment at the caress stopping
there. “I must have missed one…even just walking through the quad, I get
covered in those things.”
“Really?” Hanekoma laughed, short and softly, before the sound petered off into
heavy silence and his gaze turned more focused, meeting Joshua’s eyes again. “I
meant it, when I said I was sorry. You probably thought all of this was me
lettin’ you down easy, and that’s the last thing I wanted.”
“So you’re expecting forgiveness, just like that?” His tone was scathing,
dripping with unnecessary acid, but Joshua had never been kind even after the
smallest slight, and this one in particular had left a sting that lingered.
“Whatever you can give.” Seemingly unaffected by the harshness, Hanekoma
finally touched him with intent, a light brush against his cheek that slowly
trailed down to his jaw. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“That’s an empty line.” Joshua rolled his eyes, but he didn’t pull away. “I
liked the flowers, though.”
“See? I’m not so bad of a guy. I can keep my promises.”
“In a manner of speaking.” In spite of himself, his posture loosened and he
began to relax, focusing more on Hanekoma fiddling with the ends of his hair
than on whatever vindictive emotions still roiled. “How did you know I was out
here, anyway?”
“I ran into Koko, said I had somethin’ to tell you, and she pointed me in the
right direction.” He made a vague gesture over his shoulder, indicating the
rest of the quad. “I still wandered around for about ten minutes looking for
you. Trying not to get caught playing hooky on the first day?”
“No. I don’t have class, so I was bored.”
“That’s a bad thing for you to be.” Hanekoma gave a light, teasing tug to a
lock of Joshua’s hair. “C’mon. Let’s go back to my office. I have some time
before I have to teach a class.”
He didn’t check to see if he was being followed as he left, and it took until
he was beyond the trees for Joshua to realize the action was, in fact, a
question. It would be easy to remain rooted to the spot in tacit refusal or
dismissal, but even if cruelty felt like second nature after he’d been hurt,
even if he did have too much ego and too much petulance, he didn’t want to
remain where Hanekoma wasn’t anymore.
When he caught up, falling into step beside the other, he remained close enough
that their shoulders touched occasionally, because there was no one out around
campus to see as they made their way back to a familiar space, to have familiar
conversations, to engage in more casual intimacy that would—carefully,
eventually—become all too familiar as well.
xiv.
Hanekoma wished he could blame whatever lapses in judgment he experienced on
the blazing temperatures getting to him instead of simply being far, far too
into Joshua for his own good, but even as the weather cooled off, nothing else
did. They were talking less and kissing more, no room for speaking about
boundaries and secrecy. Joshua’s boldness in public fluctuated from knowing
smiles to slight touches if they passed each other in the halls to dragging
Hanekoma into a secluded part of the school so they could make out for a brief,
burning moment. He couldn’t ever bring himself to tell Joshua no, and besides,
the other seemed to have a reasonable limit for what risks to take when around
large groups, either on campus or on the rare weekend they spent holed up in
some air conditioned part of the city, waiting until dusk had fallen and the
concrete no longer emitted warping heat waves, to finally part ways.
In the office, however, where the illusion of privacy was a little stronger, it
was a different story entirely. And that, that was just as much, if not more,
of Hanekoma’s fault. It shouldn’t be, but Joshua excelled at being enough of a
brat to push anyone’s buttons, put cracks in self-control until it splintered
apart, until Hanekoma kissed him hard and deep enough he faltered, catching
himself on the desk when his knees buckled. Despite his breathing being
labored, he didn’t even have the decency to look properly flustered about it,
and simply narrowed his eyes, calculating and smug.
“Have you been holding back on me?”
“Nah. Just keepin’ you on your toes, J.” He’d already moved on to mouthing over
the column of the other’s neck, feeling a shiver and the exhale of a pleased
sigh. “Scoot back a bit, will ya?”
“I’d ruin all your papers, though.” He shifted until he was perched on top of
the desk, regardless, legs spread to accommodate Hanekoma between them.
“It’s nothing important.” Not like it mattered, even if he did, with Joshua
doing whatever he wanted as usual. Still, in retribution, Hanekoma gave a bite
to the juncture of his neck and shoulder that was a likely a fraction over the
edge of painful. Joshua’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away or protest,
which meant it was something he’d been after to begin with. Joshua seemed to
relish the rougher treatment he got from pushing too far, and asked for more in
snide, taunting ways, to the point it filled Hanekoma with ideas of pinning him
down, forceful enough his wrists bruised.
That, however, was getting ahead of himself, especially for having to utilize
such a small space. One thing at a time, starting with kneeling down in front
of Joshua and working his uniform pants open and off, not caring where the
fabric happened to end up pooled on the floor. Joshua had beautiful legs, soft
and slender like the rest of him, and his muscles flexed as Hanekoma ran a hand
up from his ankle to the top of his calf.
“Quit that,” he said, without any real irritation, and lightly tapped
Hanekoma’s shoulder with his heel.
“Tickles?” Ignoring Joshua’s half-hearted order, he trailed his fingers up
further, to the other’s hip where his thumb traced a line along the raised bone
there.
“A little.” His breath hitched, the sound rising into a quiet moan as Hanekoma
pressed a wandering path of kisses from the inside of his knee up to the top of
his thigh. Joshua’s skin was flawless, warm and smooth under his mouth, and it
took a great deal of willpower to sit back on his heels so he could slip his
sunglasses off, which were beginning to get in the way. He could feel Joshua
watching him, following every minute motion as he moved, reaching over to set
the lenses in a spot they wouldn’t accidentally get knocked to the ground and
cracked.
Even during the stretch of weeks where he cloistered himself, his thoughts had
been eaten up by fantasies of situations just like this, of Joshua half-naked
and willing, and it was in one of those moments that he realized fighting
against giving in was horrendously pointless, if he’d already surrendered. He
could claim being well-meaning all he wanted, but that didn’t change a single
thing. It was better, he concluded, to stop hurting Joshua with his
indecisiveness and make him happy instead. Maybe it wasn’t for the best, and it
sure as hell wasn’t right, but Hanekoma found himself caring much more about
those brief, brilliant moments of true, genuine elation from Joshua than
clinging to some empty moral standings.
Perhaps that, too, was a hollow justification for his actions, but at least
this way, they both got what they wanted. Which, as it turned out, happened to
be each other.
He’d gone back to distractedly peppering kisses along Joshua’s legs throughout
his introspection, and only realized he’d let his mind drift for a little too
long when he heard the other make a firm, irritated noise, followed by the
sound of wrinkling paper as he fidgeted on the desk.
“Hey, shh,” Hanekoma soothed, sparing him a brief glance. “I didn’t take you
for the impatient type, J.”
“I’m not. You weren’t paying attention.”
“Sorry.” Joshua’s sulking actually made him crack a fond smile, and shit, he
really was too far gone. But he ducked his head before his grin could be seen
and let his hands roam, seeking out places under clothing to touch, spots that
would make Joshua forget the slight in favor of pleasure.
They hadn’t done this, gone beyond deep kisses and caresses, any more than
Hanekoma could count on one hand, but he still knew when the other had dropped
some pretenses, from the catch in his breathing and the way he went pliant
enough that, when asked, he lifted his hips off the desk without any snide
commentary. Now that he wasn’t impeded, Hanekoma hooked his thumbs under the
waistband of Joshua’s underwear, tugging it down and off. He felt Joshua
shiver, but whether that was from being exposed to the cooler air of the office
or from anticipation, he didn’t bother to check, and instead, hoisted Joshua’s
legs onto his shoulders.
Any noise of protest or mocking quip from that action was immediately cut off
by a sharp inhale, as Hanekoma dragged his tongue from the base to the tip of
the other’s cock. He paused a beat, just long enough to glance upwards, and
pressed a kiss to the head, watching all the while as Joshua looked down at
him, eyes bright and burning with a want he wouldn’t let himself admit. Much
like how it took time to get him to open up emotionally, to get through that
barbed exterior bit by bit, Joshua had to be coaxed into dropping the act of
pretending he wasn’t affected by anything stimulating. If it weren’t for words
being a veritable minefield when it came to him, simply saying something about
it being okay to let go would be the easier solution. As it was, persuasion of
the more physical sort was needed. But Hanekoma was a patient man, and he
honestly couldn’t see a downside to gradually dragging better, more genuine
reactions out of the other.
When he finally took Joshua into his mouth fully, his pace was outright
languid, sinking down and pulling back slowly enough that every single minute
movement, every single slide of his lips and tongue, could be felt. Above him,
he heard Joshua’s breathing shift, edging into a moan on the exhale, and at the
first teasing hint of suction, he tensed to keep himself from squirming or
arching forward off the desk, muscles going rigid with the effort. Hanekoma ran
his thumbs in a gentle back-and-forth motion along the very tops of Joshua’s
knees in a tacit command to relax, but he didn’t let up, sucking harder or
increasing his speed in brief intervals, giving the other short spikes of heat
and pleasure that kept building.
Each sigh, each little shiver, was heavier and longer than the last, and it
didn’t take much longer before Joshua carded the fingers of one hand through
Hanekoma’s hair. The touch was restless and fitful, undoubtedly mussing the
locks into a disheveled mess, but that wasn’t a concern. Not when all he needed
was a little more, the press or swirl of his tongue in just the right spot,
along the underside or against the slit at the tip, enough to—
Joshua’s hand spasmed, grip tightening as a low, uninhibited moan tore its way
out of his mouth. Even if the twist and pull left his scalp stinging, Hanekoma
hardly noticed, humming in satisfaction now that he had the other exactly where
he wanted. The vibrations earned another choked noise before Joshua clenched
his thighs shut, squeezing against Hanekoma’s cheeks.
“Sanae.” The sound was perfect, breathless and heated and impossibly sweet,
sending a sparking jolt of pleasure through Hanekoma that tingled right down to
his fingertips. Gently, he pried Joshua’s legs open, just enough that he could
move freely, and began to bob his head, slow and unhurried. He ignored another
painful yank to his hair as Joshua tried to push him down further, make him go
faster than the gradual, inching way he was going lower on each downstroke.
By the time he was nearly to the hilt, he could taste precome thick on the back
of his tongue and Joshua was all but squirming, the noise of rustling,
crinkling paper nearly drowning out a heavy, exhaled utterance of keep go—oh,
keep going. The other’s gasping moans kicked up into something more keening
when Hanekoma hollowed out his cheeks and sped up his pace with intent, and
despite being sloppier, in just a few minutes he had Joshua already shuddering,
already trying to roll his hips forward more into Hanekoma’s mouth, already
choking out in a half-warning, half-plea that he was going to come. In the
place of verbal acknowledgment, Hanekoma adjusted where he had his hands
instead, creating a better bracing force so Joshua wouldn’t tip forward off the
desk. Physicality, little reassurances, sometimes seemed to speak and do
volumes more than words ever could.
Joshua trembled when he finally did come, back arching and a low, stuttering
sound catching in the back of his throat. Regardless of the benefit to keeping
relatively quiet, considering where they were, it was still a real pity not
being able to hear that at full volume. Hanekoma didn’t pull away immediately,
even after he swallowed, drawing out the moment for Joshua as long as possible
until he complained of oversensitivity.
It was a reward in and of itself to lean back and indulge in the sight of the
other, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed with stripe of color along the topmost
arch of the bone, the soft skin of the inside of his thighs stained a blotchy,
pale pink from where Hanekoma’s stubble had rubbed. Completely, utterly undone.
It made his blood sing with satisfaction, an instantaneous, encompassing rush
of it. In a sudden burst of fondness he carefully eased Joshua down off the
desk and into his arms for a kiss, slow and deep and warm. And as Joshua
returned it, still boneless and breathless with pleasure, the feeling in
Hanekoma’s veins turned searing, enough that whatever remnants of regret
remained all burned away into dust.
There was nothing left but them, in the office, and Joshua’s elegant, deft
hands already starting to work open the clasp of his belt.
xv.
The patisserie-slash-café was one of those miniscule, remote places that didn’t
look like it could seat more than twenty people, but it was blessedly warm, and
Joshua could smell the delicious combination of fresh bread and sugar once he
unwound his scarf from his face. He wouldn’t have made the trek out to some
dive if it had been on anyone’s invitation besides Koko’s. Her taste and
discretion when it came to sweets was impeccable, enough so that not even
Joshua questioned her recommendations.
And besides, this was for his birthday.
He had already spotted Koko seated at a table tucked away from the rest of the
patrons, nibbling on a pastry, but he made a stop the front counter long enough
to place an order before heading over. Upon noticing his approach, she beamed
at him, pushing her plate aside for the time being.
“Happy Birthday!” She greeted, clapping her hands excitedly. “Like, I’m sorry I
kinda started without you. Pain au chocolate is totally better when fresh and
they just made a batch.”
“I don’t mind.” Joshua shook his head, focus fixed on undoing the buttons of
his coat. When he glanced back up to hang it and his scarf on the back of his
chair, he noticed Koko’s expression of enthusiasm had turned into something
more searching. “What?”
“Your jacket. That’s the new line from Dragon Couture, isn’t it? The like,
super limited edition one.” Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “How’d you get one?”
“I have my ways.”
“This, like, goes beyond that! What—” Thankfully, Koko was interrupted by one
of the baristas calling out Joshua’s order, and he shrugged before going to
pick it up.
He couldn’t very well tell her it was a gift from Hanekoma. Besides the
obvious, it begged the question of how he’d gotten his hands on an exclusive
jacket. While quite the task for a mere art teacher, it was child’s play for
CAT, but Joshua wasn’t about to let that secret slide.
Still, regardless of how easy it might have been, he didn’t think he’d ever
said aloud how much he’d always coveted one of the brand’s infamous line of
coats they put out every year at the start of winter. But something, an offhand
comment or his preferences in general, tipped Hanekoma off. It was…sweet,
admittedly, if Joshua allowed himself a rare moment of honesty.
The look Koko gave him when he returned to the table was still as pointed as
when he left, and he was already preparing himself to dodge whatever questions
she had, but when she finally spoke up, he was met with something far more
startling.
“You’ve been happier lately.” His shock and wariness must have shown,
blatantly, because Koko snorted and rolled her eyes a moment later. “Don’t act
like that! I’m not going to pry or whatever. Even though I totally want to.”
“Oh,” was all Joshua managed to say against the sudden onslaught of thoughts
and blips of emotion. Did he really look so content at a mere memory that Koko
decided to comment on it? When had the line blurred between that and the
deliciously warm, weightless, cotton candy feeling that Joshua had attributed
to post-sex haze? Had there ever been a boundary there at all?
“Actually…” Koko barreled forwards, unconscious of Joshua’s inner upheaval.
“I’m kinda just glad you aren’t, you know, getting too stressed out or
anything. I was worried for a while you would be, with university admissions
and stuff. And I know you’ve said a million times it’s no big deal, but going
overseas for school is still totally a lot to handle.”
Overseas. Joshua had never been more thankful for his natural pallor than in
that moment, otherwise Koko likely would have picked up on the color draining
from his face. He’d been so wrapped up, living from heated moment to heated
moment, that the looming, inevitable future had been the last thing on his
mind. He hadn’t told Hanekoma. He hadn’t even thought about it, because
everything outside of them talking and touching and kissing had been conducted
on autopilot.
He swallowed, hard, against the uncharacteristic surge of anxiety welling up in
the pit of his stomach. There wasn’t a need for this kind of reaction. He
didn’t need to say anything right now, didn’t need to say anything until he
absolutely had to. Nothing needed to change, at least for a little while
longer. It would be ridiculous to think that this wasn’t their relationship
running its course, anyway, since it was all built on indulgence. A brief burst
of colorful, bright enjoyment, like a firework. No matter what Koko had said
about happiness, no matter what he sometimes saw in Hanekoma’s gaze on him, no
matter what soft thoughts he had in the dreamy space just before falling asleep
at night, no matter what—
“Applications are applications.” Joshua shrugged, picking up his fork to
nonchalantly start eating his tiramisu. “It hasn’t been all that trying.”
“Well, okay.” Koko made a vaguely dissatisfied noise, absently biting her
thumbnail. “But, um. Sorry if it seems like I’m piling a lot on you all of a
sudden, but I wanted to say this before I forget or it seemed, like, forced or
something if I was doing it at graduation.”
“What is it?”
“I guess I should start by like, telling you I was super worried when I first
met you that I was a replacement for Neku or something.” She laughed,
nervousness now channeled into fiddling with the split ends at the tips of her
hair, grown out longer and dyed pastel pink. The new style of hers had been
around for months, but for some reason, in that very instant, the sight sent
another jolt of realization running through Joshua, of just how long it had
been since that day he ran across Koko’s blog. Since that day Inoue-sensei
forced him to play tour guide for another teacher he’d assumed would be like
all the others before. “But it didn’t turn out like that. And I’ve had a lot of
fun the past three years. You’re hard to talk to sometimes, and I wish you’d,
like, tell me more than you do, but I don’t think I would have had as good of a
time if it wasn’t with you. So…I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Koko—” Anything he could say to fill in the silence following her words seemed
insubstantial, a pleasantry. She had been one of the few to attempt climbing
the isolating tower he’d ensconced himself in, and while Joshua was awful and
stubborn when it came to outwardly acknowledging appreciation, it hadn’t
escaped his notice or quiet gratitude.
Maybe someday, after all of this had blown over, after his chest stopped
traitorously seizing up at the thought of endings, he would tell her about
Hanekoma, tell her why he had to brush off so many of her concerns. For now,
all he could do was reach out over the short distance separating them and lay
his hand lightly over the one she had resting on the table. He was rarely a
demonstrative person, but there was no way for him to even begin to explain the
tangle of his thoughts, of why he was so grateful for her anchoring
affirmation. Instead, he gave a brief, gentle squeeze to her fingers, and hoped
it was enough.
Thank you.
xvi.
The last thing Hanekoma expected on an inconspicuous Thursday afternoon was a
knock on his door. Jokingly, he thought to himself that some take-out place had
read his mind and arrived preemptively, but upon opening his door he was met
with none other than Joshua, wearing casual clothing and what appeared to be an
overnight bag slung over his shoulder. It was such a staggering, shocking sight
that he had to wonder if he hadn’t dozed off on the couch and this was all some
bizarre dream.
“What’re you doing here?” No, there was a more pressing issue than that. “How
did you even know where I live?”
“My parents are gone on some retreat my father’s company holds every year. My
place is empty and boring.” Joshua shrugged, widely, expression even and
longsuffering like Hanekoma was being the unreasonable one with his questions.
“And they always let members of the student council stay in the admin offices
unsupervised. I got curious one time and looked up the address you filed with
the school.”
“So you just decided to drop on by?” He tried to tamp down the urge to pinch
the bridge of his nose, or possibly reach out, grab the other by the shoulders,
and shake some sense into him.
“Yes,” was the infuriatingly unconcerned reply. “Are you going to let me
inside?”
Hanekoma knew exactly what he should do in this absurd situation, and that was
to ignore Joshua’s mildly imploring look, turn this into a lesson about how
doing whatever you wanted without consideration for others had consequences,
and tell him to go back home. There were sketchbooks to look over, his agent to
call, a thousand other little tasks and plans that would all come to a
screeching, grinding halt if he allowed an interruption of this caliber.
But throwing away precious, uninterrupted time alone with Joshua was something
he was sure he’d regret the second he shut the door. Spoiling an already
spoiled rotten brat was the price he’d have to pay. And he’d also have to
ignore that voice in the back of his mind, whispering insidiously that he
should stop acting like he minded giving into most of Joshua’s whims.
“Come in,” Hanekoma conceded, and stepped out of the doorway, allowing Joshua
unobstructed access to the apartment. Unsurprisingly, he immediately began
poking around, silently judging and taking stock of anything that was left out
for his perusal, pausing to admire the view from the large window taking up
most of the wall, and even going to far to press his hand down on the cushions
of the furniture to test their comfort.
“It’s about what I expected,” he finally declared, meandering his way towards
the kitchen and letting his fingers run across the smooth, wooden countertop of
the breakfast bar that faced the living area.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you gotta whole lot of opinions about it. D’you want me
to take your stuff?” Hanekoma supposed he could at least try to be a half-
decent host, but most of his charity went up in smoke when, in lieu of a verbal
answer, Joshua just slipped the strap of his bag off his shoulder and held it
out. He took it anyway, and despite grumbling about manners as he passed by, he
really had no right to complain.
He brought Joshua’s things to the bedroom, setting them in a place where they
wouldn’t be underfoot, but could be easily spotted from the doorway. Hanekoma
wondered if he was breaching some kind of unspoken etiquette by not asking
Joshua where he’d like his bag to be, but a second later he was scoffing at
himself. The message of my parents aren’t around, we have the rest of the night
to ourselves couldn’t be any clearer.
Coming back into the kitchen, he found Joshua rifling through the refrigerator
and cabinets, apparently finding nothing to his liking, if the crease on the
bridge of his nose was any indication.
“There’s nothing here to eat.”
“I’m not much of a cook,” Hanekoma offered by way of explanation, watching the
other carefully as he went near the espresso machine set on the counter. “So I
hope his illustrious highness doesn’t mind take-out.”
“I want subata.” Joshua peered at himself in the polished metal face of the
machine, before tossing a smirk over his shoulder. “And shrimp gyoza.”
He was in a particularly demanding mood, it seemed, a fact that Hanekoma turned
over in his mind as he went to go fetch his phone. It wasn’t as if this was an
uncommon occurrence, but there was something off about it, this time, something
just under the surface in Joshua’s eyes, his tone of voice, his expressions.
He’d dare categorize it as wistfulness, if such a thing weren’t so absurd
considering who he was observing. Of course, prying would do no good at all,
but curiosity and restlessness still gnawed at him. So maybe some spoiling was
for the best, if only to put them both at ease.
Once he finished the order and tossed his phone carelessly back onto the coffee
table, he noticed Joshua had disappeared, likely to investigate the rooms down
the hall. There wasn’t anything worth keeping him away from, and he wasn’t the
type to cause a mess during his snooping, so Hanekoma left him to it, opting to
relocate the sketchbooks scattered everywhere in the meantime.
Joshua did not emerge back into the living room until after the food had
arrived and Hanekoma was already settled on the couch with his own share. There
were no mocking comments about anything he had unturned, no relentless barrage
of opinions or quips, which was another worrying oddity about the evening.
“Done exploring?” The question was a pointless one, too close to small talk,
but the silence felt oppressive without anything to fill it.
“I suppose.” Unceremoniously, Joshua dropped down onto the cushion next to
Hanekoma, his legs crossed over the armrest. It was twice as difficult to eat,
now that Joshua’s back was pressed against the length of his arm, but for the
rare sight of the other so relaxed, propriety tossed to the wayside, he could
let it slide.
“Hey. Are you all right?” That lowering of defenses also prompted him to act on
his impulse to prod, something he wished he could take back the second Joshua
turned a fraction to shoot him a leery, guarded look.
“I’m fine.” He shook his head and delicately picked up a gyoza with his
chopsticks, dipping it into the container of sauce placed on the coffee table.
“Why?”
“You seemed a little…quiet.” Hanekoma shrugged the shoulder Joshua wasn’t
leaning against, as nonchalantly as he could muster. “Just wonderin’ if
something was bothering you. Or if you’re stressed. I know university apps can
be brutal—”
“Don’t.” The word was razor sharp, emphatic, spoken with a harshness that was
downright startling, but it was gone so quickly that Hanekoma thought he might
have imagined it, if it wasn’t for Joshua’s mild, appeasing smile not reaching
his eyes. “I just hear that kind of thing from everyone else. I’d rather not
talk about it.”
“Sure.” He watched Joshua go back to eating, casual and at ease once more, yet
couldn’t quite convince himself to do the same. “Sorry, J. Shoulda known you’d
be getting interrogated on that subject.”
“Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me.” There was nothing but
suggestion in the other’s glance now, promise that spoke of heat and touches to
drive away every other thought. “I’m sure you have a way to make me forget all
about it.”
Maybe he really should pry more, maybe he should insist, maybe he should stop
waiting and hoping that the other would decide to open up to him about
everything one day. But deep down, this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to
have. He didn’t want to reach the point where they had to address exactly what
they were, didn’t want to force definitions only to have Joshua pull away,
because Hanekoma more than adored him, he really did, even if there was always
a part of him screaming, talk to me, if I mean anything to you, just talk to
me—
If Joshua wanted a distraction, he’d get one. One for the both of them.
xvii.
Hanekoma woke to the sound of pouring rain, a steady torrent pattering against
the window. He was also freezing cold, as Joshua had commandeered most of the
blankets during the night, wrapping them around himself into a cocoon. Rolling
onto his side, Hanekoma let his gaze travel along the dim outline of the mound
of covers, rising and falling in time with the other’s steady breathing, up to
the mess of loose ashen curls peeking out the top. He reached out, brushing a
strand of hair away from Joshua’s face, before leaning down and pressing a
fond, soft kiss to his temple.
The digital clock read 6:23am, red numbers glowing eerily in the near-darkness
of the room, and Hanekoma turned the alarm off with a small sigh. He could let
Joshua sleep for a little while longer.
He was careful not to jostle the mattress when he extracted himself from the
bed, moving slow and measured until he was standing. Thankfully, Joshua did not
stir, except to heave a deeper breath and turn his face more into the pillow.
Hanekoma stretched as he made his way into the bathroom, the skin of his back
feeling oddly tight and prickling. When he flicked the light on and got a
decent look at himself in the mirror, the reason why was readily, boldly
apparent. Scratch marks, dulled to a dark pink from the angry red they would
have been the previous night, ran from an inch or two below his shoulder blades
all the way up to the top of his spine. He winced, not really relishing how bad
those would sting when he took a shower, but the memories they evoked—Joshua’s
beautiful, smooth skin under his hands, Joshua’s legs curling tight around his
hips, Joshua’s mouth, pretty and kiss-swollen and open as he panted more—were a
more than satisfactory diversion from the pain.
By the time he had finished up and came back into the bedroom with a towel
wrapped around his waist, Joshua was already awake, sitting on the edge of the
bed in Hanekoma’s discarded shirt. It was too loose on him, fabric pooling at
the elbow of the sleeve as he brought a hand up to cover a yawn.
“Mornin’ Josh,” Hanekoma said, amused. “Sleep well?”
“Mmn. Well enough.” He blinked, still drowsy, and followed Hanekoma’s movements
across the room. “You didn’t use all the hot water, did you?”
“Nah, left it all for you to waste.” Walking towards the closet, Hanekoma made
a vague gesture over his shoulder, indicating his back. “By the way, this might
be easy to cover up, but could ya do me a favor and not go so overboard next
time?”
“I went overboard?” The indignant tone, completely without mockery, impelled
him to glance over to Joshua, who was pulling back his collar to reveal a
smattering of marks in deep, hideous purple mottled with red. There were
probably more, covered by the fabric of the shirt, and Hanekoma mustered the
decency to at least look sheepish.
“Sorry, Josh. Must’ve gotten a little carried away.” The other only made a
quiet, acknowledging noise, before heading off to the bathroom, effectively
ending the conversation. “D’you want me to make you some coffee while you’re in
there?”
He heard a faint yes, please as the door swung shut, and shook his head,
getting back to the task of getting dressed. Afterwards, he slipped out of the
room and down the hall, the sound of running water in the shower growing
fainter as he went. He had a feeling Joshua would take his time, but it would
still pay to have a drink ready for him, if only to avoid snide jabs and
petulant remarks.
Sure enough, Joshua only appeared, hair still damp and laying a little flatter,
when Hanekoma was half-finished with his own coffee. Seeing him move about in
his school uniform, sitting on Hanekoma’s kitchen chair, against the background
of Hanekoma’s living room, conjured an anomalous mix of endearment and
apprehension. The line between public and private contexts had been blurred
beyond all recognition long ago, but it was always strange, always unbalancing,
to see a new mix of the two. Joshua, noticing the stare, lowered his mug from
his lips and tipped his head to the side inquisitively, but the question he
finally ventured was unexpected.
“You’re going to give me a ride to school, right?” Hanekoma shot him an
exasperated look, to which he only smiled blithely. “You could really live with
yourself if you let me walk in this weather? I mean, even if I have an
umbrella, it’s just so cold—”
“You’ve made your point.” The things he let this brat get away with… “But you
better hurry up. I’m not gonna wait around all morning for you.”
Proving he could be reasonable and obedient when it suited him, Joshua drank
the rest of his coffee relatively quickly, and it didn’t take much longer
beyond that for them both to gather their things and head out of the apartment.
The weather really was horrendous, unrelenting rain and icy cold air that sank
through any number of clothing layers, making even the short walk from the
building to Hanekoma’s car completely miserable. But once they were inside,
with the engine running and heat on full blast, the chill settling in rapidly
dissipated.
Joshua sat with his bag in his lap, lazily staring out the window as they
drove. His silence wasn’t unusual in the least; Hanekoma had long ago learned
that the other preferred quiet during travel, to be left to his thoughts and
people-watching. So when he spoke up, after only a handful of blocks, it was
shocking enough that Hanekoma nearly jerked the car to the side in surprise.
“Last night,” Joshua began, not moving his eyes from where they were fixed on
the scenery rushing by. “You mentioned university applications.”
“Yeah. Guess I did.” He would not bring up that, at the time, Joshua vehemently
wanted nothing to do with the subject.
“About that…” Despite his idle, indifferent posture, his words were heavy and
weighted, like stones being dropped into a pond, sending ripples of unease
across Hanekoma’s consciousness. “It’s not for certain, yet, but it’s very
likely I’ll be attending school in the states.”
“Shouldn’t expect anything less than ambitious from you.” Hanekoma’s grip
tightened on the steering wheel, biting back words and emotions that threatened
to surge up before Joshua had finished completely, since it could be a segue
into something else. Asking about long distance, maybe. “Why’re you telling me?
Specifically, I mean.”
“When I graduate, this has to end.” He spoke with finality, a grating
superiority that implied there was no room for further discussion. “It’s for
the best, isn’t it?”
He was impossible. Incensing. Like Joshua really knew what was best when he
waited until late winter to speak up, when he dropped this on Hanekoma’s lap
like he expected the whole situation to be accepted with no fuss, when he acted
like tearing apart what they had for three years would be easy, when he—
Hanekoma’s thoughts rolled to a stop at the same time he tapped on the brake
for a red light. Joshua was wrong for taking so long to say anything, wrong for
the way he went about it, but he wasn’t wrong about what he said. Their
relationship was under less than ideal circumstances, to phrase it more
tactfully than it deserved. Could Hanekoma really demand compromise and keep
Joshua from experiences he’d have and people his own age he’d meet?
No. No, he couldn’t bring himself to. Even though felt like his ribs had been
pried open, leaving him raw and exposed and hurting, the one thing he could
never deny Joshua was happiness. That was his entire excuse for finally giving
in, and he’d be worse than a hypocrite if he went back on that now. Although,
regardless of his own guilt hanging over his head, he didn’t want to hold
Joshua back. If this is what was asked of him, if letting go was all he could
do at the end, then he would.
“I wish you would’ve told me sooner,” Hanekoma said, purposefully ignoring the
other’s questioning, incisive gaze burning a hole into the side of his head.
“And while I get what you’re saying, can we talk about this later?”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“A lot, actually. I—can’t you just—” He took a long, steadying breath, trying
to organize the scattered fragments of everything he wanted to say at once.
“Josh, humor me if you gotta. I know you got council stuff this morning, but
swing by my office after classes are out. Please.”
“…all right. I’ll come by.” In his peripheral vision, he caught the movement of
Joshua shifting in his seat and turning his head back towards the window, but
that was all.
Unfortunately, despite the rain, it wouldn’t do if they parked anywhere
directly on campus, lest anyone see a student hopping out of a teacher’s car
first thing in the morning. So Hanekoma stopped a block or two away, behind a
couple of shops that hadn’t even turned their signs from closed to open yet.
Joshua unbuckled his seatbelt, rummaging in his bag for his pocket umbrella,
before reaching out towards the handle of the door. His fingers rested there,
curling slightly as a small frown pulled on the corners of his mouth.
“What’s the matter? You didn’t forget somethin’ back at my apartment, did you?”
Hanekoma laughed, bemusedly, until Joshua turned around in his seat and the
sound trailed off into silence. He had honestly been angry over Joshua’s
attitude, blasé even in a situation like this, taking it as a lack of true
affection, but he should have known better. There was a waver, in the other’s
eyes and the way he was fiddling with the ends of his hair. Another front,
another wall with cracks in it that Hanekoma had gotten so, so good at picking
out.
“Sanae—”
“You’re gonna be late,” he interrupted, refusing to allow the hesitation to
grow into full-fledged doubt. Whether or not Joshua’s decision was made for the
right reasons, or a misguided attempt to protect himself emotionally, it was
still his decision. “You can tell me whatever you want later, okay? Think it
over if you have to.”
“Right. I’ll see you then.” There was a blast of cold air rushing in as Joshua
opened the car door, and Hanekoma couldn’t help but lean over far enough to
press a light kiss to his cheek. If he could get away with a little
selfishness, now that there was a timer ticking away in the back of his mind,
he would.
The action earned a faint smile, but it was gone as soon as Joshua slipped out
of the vehicle. Hanekoma watched him the whole while, from when he opened up
his umbrella and headed towards campus, to when he rounded the corner on the
far street and disappeared out of sight.
Tilting his head back against the seat, Hanekoma shut his eyes. What he
wouldn’t give to open them again to find he was in bed with Joshua nestled
beside him, sleeping soundly. But instead, he was met with the rain still
pouring and pouring around him, and a class to teach, and a deadline he could
not avoid or extend.
xviii.
The day was clear, the late afternoon sun casting such a perfect golden color
across the city, it made even the smog and towering modernity postcard-
picturesque. Some of the cherry trees had started to put out flowers, and
Joshua had a feeling in a weeks time, on graduation day, they’d all be out in
full.
It was no longer a question. He was heading to school overseas in the fall. His
father, rather overzealous at the prospect, decided to rob him of the few
precious months in-between, whisking him away to the states only a few days
after he received his diploma, to get acquainted with the new city he’d be
living in and the country as a whole. Which meant he had to make the best of
the time he had remaining.
That included spending an entire day with Neku, starting with grabbing coffee
to-go in the morning and then making a slow, meandering trek through the city,
stopping occasionally for more food and window-shopping. Eventually, their
aimless wandering led them to Udagawa and the mural there, a colorful, vibrant
beacon among all the concrete.
The significance would be lost on Neku, but Joshua found it bitterly
appropriate that he was made to stand in front of Hanekoma’s art. Come to think
of it, there was never a time he got to watch the other actually create
anything. Hanekoma had said his new occupation as a teacher was due to art
block, but it would have been a private pleasure to be allowed the chance to
see him work. A chance Joshua would no longer be afforded.
The talk they had was straightforward, establishing very firmly that yes,
splitting up after graduation was the best course of action. It was all
disgustingly polite and Hanekoma was disgustingly adult about it, but Joshua
could not truly bring himself to be angry with that. They hadn’t left each
other another choice.
“Hey, Josh.” Neku spoke up, quietly, beside him. “I’ve, uh, been meaning to
talk to you.”
“About what?” He didn’t take his eyes off the mural, following sweeps of bright
pigment that dipped into shadows.
“Look. Before I start I want you to know I’m bringing this up because I don’t
want anything hanging between us when you leave.” Candidness of that caliber,
of real, emotional motivations, was rare enough from Neku that Joshua took
notice. Their similarity in that respect, the need and instinct to tuck
vulnerabilities away in impenetrable fortresses of dispassion, was one of the
reasons they became friends in the first place. A meeting of equals, way back
during the first few days of middle school. “So I really, really, really need
you to be honest with me.”
“I’ll try.” Which was the best either of them could ask for, depending on
Neku’s question.
“What’s been going on with you?” He folded his arms, glower harsh and resolute.
“And don’t tell me it’s nothing, I’m not buying that. You’ve been acting weird
for ages.”
“And you’ve only just brought it up?”
“Stop it.” Neku’s posture tightened. “Yeah, I’m fucking sorry I haven’t said
anything, because it seemed wrong over text or e-mail and it never seemed the
right time when we hung out, but you don’t get to dodge this anymore.”
Joshua was quiet, letting the sounds of the city—car horns, a bark of surprised
laughter, the breeze rustling flyers taped to the lampposts and sides of
buildings—pour in to fill the silence that was left between them. He did not
look at Neku as he brought a hand up to gently trace along the curve of a broad
swell of color on the mural.
“I’ve been involved with someone,” he said. “Someone…older than me. A lot older
than me.”
“Shit, Josh.” Neku’s voice was breathless with disbelief. “Who is—okay, you
probably can’t tell me who. How did this even happen?”
“I don’t know if I could tell you.” Joshua cracked a wry smile, palm still
pressed flush against the paint staining the wall. “And I mean that I’m not
sure how this happened myself, much less how to articulate it to you. We just
started talking, got to know each other a little at a time, and before I knew
it…”
“Wait. Wait, is this the same person you were hung up on last year? When Koko
dragged us to that teashop?” He heard Neku’s footsteps come closer before he
felt the other’s hand on his shoulder, forcefully turning him so they faced
each other. “This has been going on that long?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘this.’” Joshua shrugged, not purposeful enough to
dislodge Neku’s grip. “I’ve been interested that long, I guess you could say.
It took a while for things to be explicitly mutual.”
“But you’re leaving soon, right? Is that why you’ve been acting so spaced-out?
Are you—”
“We’re ending it. It’s for the best, after all. I mean, why make a big deal out
of something that wasn’t in the first place.” He tried to take a step back, but
Neku only held on tighter, his other hand reaching out to squeeze Joshua’s
upper harm, keeping him in place.
“This is messed up. This is messed up in so many ways, and it’s gonna take me a
while to wrap my head around it, but all that’s only important because I don’t
want you hurt.” Neku bit down on his bottom lip, eyes wide and searching and he
couldn’t seem to keep his gaze in one spot, attention flicking over to every
possible flinch or tell in Joshua’s expression. “Josh. Just how much do they
mean to you?”
And Joshua can’t help but think of countless conversations and deep, rumbling
laughter and the smell of coffee and sure, gentle hands running up his legs and
a presence that felt more like home than the place where his parents and
bedroom resided ever did.
“Not as much as you’re implying, Neku,” he tried to say, but his voice cracked
right at the start and there was no way the other didn’t catch it, no way he
didn’t know what it meant. His hold loosened, but did not drop and he stood in
hushed solidarity for Joshua, who lowered his head and tried to breathe through
the ache in his chest.
The sun was setting over the city, the cherry blossoms were a day closer to
blooming, and there was nothing more to be done.
xix.
As far as ceremonies went, there wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy about
it, alike in almost every respect to the ones Hanekoma had attended the two
previous years. Not like that was unexpected. It was a normal event, dozens
more exactly like it happening all over Shibuya. The world could not be
expected to produce some sign, some significance, that would be worthy of the
emotion weighing down on him.
He’d retreated to his office the second he was able. Students would inevitably
make their way to him, wanting to say goodbye and get last-minute advice and
show off their new diplomas, but until then, he could have a moment of solitude
to steel himself. But the door swung open with a slight, drawn-out creak
earlier than he was prepared for, and he was suddenly faced with Joshua far
sooner than he was ready for as well.
“Hey, Josh,” he greeted, and somehow, he managed a grin. “Congrats on making it
through. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” Joshua took a slow, thorough look around the office. “I thought I
might find you away from all the mayhem out there.”
“Yeah, well. Plenty of time for mingling later.” Hanekoma rubbed at the back of
his neck for an excuse to look away from the other memorizing the room, taking
a snapshot of the last time he’d be there. “Speakin’ of which, why aren’t you
off with your parents? Or Koko?”
“I suppose I needed a break, too.” There was a pause, between the painfully
strained small talk and something doubtlessly weightier. “…and I wanted to say
goodbye. Without any of them hovering around.”
“Ah.” Too much at once, too much of I’ll miss you and I’m glad we met and try
to think of me once in a while was trying to burst out. He couldn’t manage much
more than a single, vague sound in acknowledgement.
“And I have to make it quick.” Joshua finally showed the vestiges of a smirk as
he shrugged. “Everyone waiting for me thinks I went off to the bathroom. I just
didn’t want to explain myself at the time, so that was the excuse.”
No room for hesitation, then. Hanekoma didn’t always make the best decisions
when running on instinct, but something here was better than letting Joshua
leave in silence. Slowly, he stood from his chair and stepped a few paces away
from the desk, before holding his arm out, angled slightly to the side. It was
an invitation for something they had never really done, beyond the inevitable
tangling of limbs and pulling each other closer during sex, but Joshua took it
unquestioningly, walking straight into the embrace and curling his arms tightly
around Hanekoma’s torso. Immediately, he brought a hand up to cradle the back
of Joshua’s head, fingers curling into his hair. Their bodies slotted together
perfectly, and he almost regretted all the time he spent not wrapped up
together like this.
But it was fine, because Joshua—petulant, smug, frustrating, talented, clever,
beautiful Joshua—was his, just his, for a moment more.
He could feel Joshua’s chest expand with a deep, shaky breath as he inhaled
against Hanekoma’s collar, clinging to the back of his shirt. Suddenly, his
grip tightened, and then all of him loosened at once, shoulders slumping as he
began to pull away. Hanekoma didn’t let him get very far before leaning forward
enough to press a single, lingering kiss on the crown of his head.
“You’ll be okay.” He cupped Joshua’s cheek in his palm, tilting the other’s
face up so their eyes met. “Better than.”
“I know.” The other did not smile, but his gaze was warm and clear, and that
was all Hanekoma needed. “I really have to go.”
It happened in less than a minute. Joshua was there and then he was not, and
Hanekoma watched him leave, out the door, down the hall, off campus, and
beyond, across an entire ocean to a place where he’d grow and thrive and live.
Beyond the sharp, agonizing pain of the moment, that thought brought a tendril
of fulfillment.
And in the emptiness left behind, the new gaping Joshua-shaped space in his
life, Hanekoma did the only thing he could. He sat back down, pulled his
sketchbook and a pencil towards him, and began to draw.
Chapter End Notes
     Some more things: One, I couldn't very well call myself a TMGS fan,
     write a Student/Teacher AU, and not have a car ride scene, now could
     I?
     Two: Gyoza are essentially potstickers, and subata is essentially
     Japanese-style sweet and sour pork? I knew that Americanized Chinese
     food and Japanese-style Chinese food are not only very different from
     actual Chinese food, but very different from each other as well.
     Thanks, Google, for your invaluable help when it comes to searching
     for ridiculously specific facts about things.
     Three: Thank you all for your kudos, comments, and support! I
     appreciate it more than you probably realize.
***** Sweater Weather *****
Chapter Notes
     Oh my god it's actually done. Chapter title comes from "Sweater
     Weather" by The Neighborhood. Way more notes at the end, but for now
     let's just get to it. Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
xx.
A Look at What the CAT Dragged In
By Makoto Miki
A collective sigh of relief came from fans all across the globe when superstar
CAT made a triumphant return after a three year hiatus. There had been
speculation and apprehension that the break would be a permanent one, but the
artist put all fears to rest when advertisements and tags started popping up
around the city again. Their vivid, distinctive, imaginative style and
mysterious air were duly missed on Shibuya’s streets, and now, four years after
their comeback, CAT is set to host an exhibit of their work. And, despite their
infamous need for anonymity, we here at Tin Pin Weekly managed to nab a super
exclusive over-the-phone interview with the reclusive artist. Voice distorting
software notwithstanding, we’ve transcribed it all here. This is a rare
opportunity, and something you definitely don’t want to miss reading!
Tin Pin Weekly: Thanks for speaking with us. It’s been a while since you’ve
agreed to any interviews, isn’t it?
CAT: Yeah, no problem. It’s about time I had another, since I’ve been gone for
a while and all.
Tin Pin Weekly: Right, the hiatus. Why did you take one, and for so long?
CAT: It was—well, guess I can talk about this now. I had art block, plain and
simple. Took a bit to get over it.
TPW: What were you doing for three years, if you weren’t making art?
CAT: Now that’s something I can’t talk about. All I can say is I had another
gig that was pretty rewarding. Met a lot of interesting people. Actually, I
didn’t quit that until just recently. My exhibit might’ve gotten out a lot
quicker if I stopped that job sooner, but, I liked it.
TPW: Would you say that this other occupation helped you with your block?
CAT: No question.
TPW: Can you give us an example of how?
CAT: I dunno about that, but…art is about saying something. Y’know, getting a
message out there. And what people want to say has to do with what they
experience. Looking back on it, I think the rut I was in had to do with having
nothing to say. But new experiences, feeling new things—things I didn’t really
expect to, all that helped a lot.
TPW: You’ve been doing so much recently—even collaborating with designers for a
fashion brand—people are wondering what your exhibit is going to be like. Can
you give us a hint? And why have you kept the art in it so under wraps?
CAT: Yeah, Gatito [laughs]. That’s been different. But fun, real fun. As for my
exhibit, I’ve been keeping it quiet because some of the art means a lot to me.
Sometimes you wanna say something to someone in particular. That’s a piece or
two. A good deal of it is stuff I just took the time to enjoy making. It’s good
to get back in the game, and I wanted to express that.
TPW: What are your plans for the future?
CAT: Not quite sure yet. I might take another break—not as long, don’t worry,
but a little something to recharge again. Maybe travel a bit. Who knows?
TPW: Well, we all wish you the best of luck. And I think I speak for all of
your fans when I say it’s great to have you back on the art scene.
CAT: Thanks. And it’s nice to be back.
CAT’s exhibit premieres the 15th of September for anyone lucky enough to get
their hands on an exclusive opening night invitation, but for the general
public it will run from the 16th to the 30th. Don’t miss it!
xxi.
The airport was teeming when Hanekoma just got off the plane, but he
sidestepped the crowds with relative ease, unlike his fellow passengers who
were still fumbling about groggily. He was never more thankful for his ability
to doze off anywhere than when he had an 11-hour flight from LAX back to Tokyo.
He’d forgotten about how true busyness felt, how much of a whirlwind it was
when everyone was clamoring after his art, to put it in their museums, on their
billboards, as their logos for their brand. Teaching had its own kind of hectic
air, but it was different, less of a grand scale, and he missed it. No reason
he couldn’t go back some day, but there was so much demanded of him currently.
And after his exhibit opened in a few days, it would get even worse.
Not that it was unexpected after such a long hiatus, and nor was it bad to be
creating again, but sometimes—
He stopped short at one of the baggage carousels, nearly causing the person
walking behind him to run into his back. He offered a brief, cursory apology,
barely sparing them a glance, attention fixed instead on a young man—a very,
very familiar-looking young man, typing something on his phone.
This wasn’t a new phenomenon. For months after their goodbyes, Hanekoma thought
he saw Joshua on subway platforms, on the other side of crosswalks, in line for
something to drink at a café. But that had dissipated with time, and this was
beyond a fleeting, ephemeral similarity that faded away into someone else on
the second look. No matter how long he stared, the figure in front of him
became more and more like Joshua instead of less. His hair might be pulled up
into a loose ponytail and the angles of his face might be a little sharper, but
those eyes and pouty mouth and posture were unmistakable. Hanekoma found
himself moving forward almost on instinct.
“Joshua?” The name—thankfully, finally, wonderfully—earned a reaction, a raise
and turn of his head and, when their gazes finally met, a wide smile. It seemed
almost uncanny to get such a warm reaction, a gesture that had been so rare
before, upon a first meeting again.
“Sanae.” He pocketed his phone and took a small step closer. “This is quite the
coincidence.”
“Yeah, it’s—I didn’t expect to see ya.” Unable to decide or commit to a
handshake or hug or any sort of greeting beyond a verbal one, Hanekoma opted to
stick his hands into his pockets instead. “Here on a visit?”
“No, actually, my trip out was a visit. I’ve spent the past month moving back
to Tokyo. It’s been quite the hassle, but this is the last plane ride for a
while.” The carousel started turning, bags falling onto the rotating metal
conveyer belt with muffled thumps, and Joshua cast a quick glance over his
shoulder. “I’d ask how you were doing, but I’ve been reading about you in
magazines and blogs so much, I feel I already know.”
“Everybody likes a comeback.” He shrugged, feigning modesty, which made
Joshua’s lips quirk up in amusement. “What about you?”
“Where to start?” It wasn’t as if, over the course of three years, Hanekoma
hadn’t given in to his curiosity and snooped around the internet for mentions
of what Joshua might have been up to. But most of those searches proved
fruitless, besides social media sites, and it seemed wrong, somehow, to follow
Joshua on those when a clean break had been so important. In the end, he was
looking for proof Joshua was happy, successful in the new chapter of his life,
and typing a name into Google could never give him the assurance he craved. “If
you mean recently, a videogame company snatched me up to do a soundtrack for
them. It’s why I’m back here, I start work in a few weeks.”
“Right outta school? That’s impressive, J.” The nickname slipped out before he
could help himself, but Joshua didn’t seem to mind.
“Maybe not. For my final project in school, I composed the music for an indie
film that did very well. It earned both of us some attention.”
“Is that humility? From you?” He didn’t seem to take offense to the teasing,
either, and simply waved his hand dismissively. “So you have grown up.”
“I could just be trying to make a favorable impression too, you know.” Before
Hanekoma could retort to that, the other held up his index finger—wait a
moment—and moved over to the carousel, lifting a nondescript black roller
suitcase off the belt and onto the floor.
There were a thousand different ways he had imagined their reunion. Joshua
seeking him out the moment he got back to Japan. Joshua getting enough fame
through his music that Hanekoma calling him up for congratulations wouldn’t
seem out of place. By chance, at a restaurant or store or on the street or just
like this. But none of those daydreams ever edged past the initial stages,
never crept into the territory of bridging those lost years. There was a gap
between them, made up of countless experiences they could not share, countless
hours they did not spend with each other. Were Hanekoma’s feelings, muted but
growing louder over possibilities, stuck on a Joshua who no longer existed? Did
Joshua have someone else? If he didn’t, did he want to pick up a messy
relationship he left behind?
Later. He could pay attention to those worries and problems later. Because
right now Joshua was in front of him, head tilted to the side in contemplation,
and if Hanekoma allowed indecision to freeze him up, he wouldn’t get another
chance.
“Did you want to split a cab?”
“Sure.” Joshua appeared surprised by the offer, but not unwilling, and angled
himself towards the exit more. “Lead the way.”
Bizarrely, their short trip to locate a taxi reminded Hanekoma of the times
they spent on the weekends walking around the city together. Perhaps it was the
fact that Joshua still preferred to walk about in silence, and the similarity
coaxed memories to the surface. And there was one more, newer thought woven in
among all the reminiscence: more overt affection wasn’t an issue now. No reason
to hide anything. Except for the fact they weren’t together, technically.
Hanekoma sighed, dropping his single bag into the trunk along with Joshua’s
luggage, thankful for something to do with his hands while they itched to
touch.
Yet another stumbling block presented itself when they were both settled in the
back of the cab, and the driver asked where they were headed. Hanekoma nearly
rattled off his address automatically, before he remembered he didn’t know
where Joshua’s new place happened to be.
“So’re you closer to the airport?”
“Are you still in the same place?” Hanekoma managed a nod to the question,
despite the jolt of surprise that came with Joshua so casually mentioning a
piece of their past. It shouldn’t be as shocking as it felt, but, this day was
already turning out to be full of unexpected events. What was one more? “Then
you’re nearer.”
Hanekoma finally did tell the driver his address, and the taxi started moving.
“You know, I meant to ask you,” Joshua said, once they were out of airport
traffic and the scenery was rushing by smoothly outside the window. “What are
you doing taking a trip so close to your exhibit opening? Aren’t you busy?”
“Ah, it wasn’t for vacation.” Hanekoma leaned his elbow against the door and
rested his cheek against his knuckles. “Got some museums in the states asking
for some of my work. Went over there to hammer out the details.”
“I see.” During the pause he could feel the other’s eyes on him, studying, but
what he was looking for, Hanekoma didn’t have a clue. “I like your fashion
line.”
“Do you? Really?” Joshua responded by pulling back the collar to his light
jacket, revealing a smoky gray Gatito brand shirt underneath, and Hanekoma had
to laugh. “Well, that’s a compliment coming from you. But I can’t take all the
credit. It’s a collab effort.”
“Even still.” He shrugged, not quite smiling, but his eyes were bright from
amusement. “Admittedly, Neku has the bigger collection. He’s also beside
himself with excitement over the exhibit.”
“Oh, yeah?” Hopefully, his attempt at vague, unconcerned interest didn’t sound
as paper-thin to Joshua as it did to his own ears. “He dragging you with him?”
“Yes. I can’t say I mind, though. I’d have made time to go, regardless.”
“Too bad you’re going with Neku, then,” Hanekoma said, glancing at the other
slowly, gauging minute shifts in expression. “I’d have offered to take you to
the opening.”
“Well.” That tone. That tone, full of affected indifference, was so familiar it
sent a plume of affection bursting in his chest like an artillery shell, a
solid, piercing hit. “No reason I can’t go twice, is there?”
“Guess not.” Hanekoma leaned back against his seat, hiding his relieved exhale
with the motion. He didn’t know how much he should read into Joshua wanting to
see his art—wanting to see his art together—but it was certainly a far cry from
wanting to keep his distance. “Y’want me to pick you up?”
“If it won’t make you late.”
“Nah. I can show up whenever.” Beyond the window, the buildings became more and
more recognizable as the cab drew closer to the block where Hanekoma’s building
was on.
“Then you should give me your number.” He heard a soft rustling sound beside
him as Joshua extracted his phone from his pocket. “So I can text you my
address later.”
If it was a ploy, rather than a genuine request, Hanekoma didn’t much care. He
was once more reminded of something in the past, of a cold day spent in a
coffee shop, as recited his phone number for Joshua when the taxi came to a
stop at the curb. After paying his fare, he opened the door and stepped out
onto the sidewalk, but did not yet move towards the trunk to fetch his bag.
“Make sure you dress nice, all right? There’s a bit of pomp and circumstance
surrounding this.” He hesitated, not quite long enough to allow Joshua to get a
word in edgewise, but enough that his words seemed faltering. “I’m glad I ran
into you today, Joshua.”
“When don’t I?” He gave a little wave, expression softening a sliver. “I’m sure
it wouldn’t have been your only chance, Sanae.”
He could reply to that, in a dozen ways that were already clattering around in
his mind, but the driver seemed impatient, so Hanekoma just offered a smile
before he shut the door.
He was halfway up the entry steps, bag slung over his shoulder, when he chanced
a look down the street. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, if he could even
tell whether or not Joshua was looking back at him, but all he saw was the
taillights of the cab heading out of view as it made a right turn at the far
end of the block.
But in the elevator up to his apartment, his pocket buzzed with a text that
contained a street name and a building number and the words looking forward to
it, so he said what he hadn’t before, a typical parting as much as it was a
promise.
See you soon.
xxii.
He downloaded the soundtrack. And watched the film, which was an emotional,
poignant affair rife with metaphor, but that was only done to hear Joshua’s
music in the context it was composed for. In the days leading up to the exhibit
opening, he listened to it back to back, over coffee in the mornings and
tending to e-mails and phone calls to his increasingly anxious agent. His
favorite was a track that played during a scene right after the climax of the
movie—a still, ruminative part that was reflected in the slow chords of the
song. It was nearly haunting, with a swell towards the end that made Hanekoma
inhale in the same rhythm every time. Joshua had really come into his own, and
would only get better. He’d always been talented, no doubt, but Hanekoma
thought, allowing himself a bit of a knowing smile, that once free from being
corralled into a certain motif by his teachers, Joshua’s true creativity was
allowed all the reign it needed.
At the very least, it would give him something to ask, maybe even use as a
springboard into other topics. He’d contemplated that almost as thoroughly as
the music he’d been listening to, but even when he was seated in the back of a
sleek black luxury car, on his way to Joshua’s place, he didn’t quite know how
he was going to breach the topic of where they stood. Or if that was a good
idea, period. He wasn’t granted much time to brood over it anymore, since they
were stopped in front of a shiny, modern apartment complex, and Hanekoma had to
roll down the tinted window to toss a grin to Joshua, who was waiting just
outside of the entryway.
“Hey. Hope I haven’t kept ya long.” The other only shook his head and made his
way to the opposite side of the car, opening the door and sliding inside.
“When you said you’d pick me up, I didn’t really picture this.” He was dressed
sharply, as expected, in tailored suit without a single thread out of place.
But beyond the objective impeccability of the outfit, there was something more,
in the pale gold of his tie knotted in the Eldredge style, in the gentle waves
of his hair catching the wan light of the streetlamps, in his features no
longer softened by adolescence, that made Hanekoma want to stare and drink up
all the new and familiar alike.
“My agent, who’s a bit on the neurotic side, thought it’d be best to send me
off with a chauffer, rather than risk me running into trouble or traffic all by
myself.” Hanekoma shrugged one shoulder, not shifting his gaze. “I wasn’t gonna
complain.”
Joshua hummed in understanding, before falling into his usual comfortable
silence. If he was bothered by Hanekoma’s continued brief glances, he didn’t
mention it.
When they reached the front of the gallery, it was a flurry of activity, mainly
from a large group of teenagers all brandishing their cell phones, and the wall
of security guards keeping them well away from the entrance.
“What’s all that about?” Joshua craned his head around to see through the
window better, as their driver tried to find a decent place to stop among all
the other vehicles.
“Some big names are supposed to show up tonight. The Prince and 777, for
instance.”
“Ooh. You must feel honored.”
“More of a hassle.” Hanekoma snorted, shaking his head as he reached for the
door handle. “Anyway, here we are.”
The group of fans all turned their heads when they noticed someone new was
making their way out of a car, but upon realizing it wasn’t a celebrity they
recognized, they lost interest. Little did they know they were missing an
opportunity to nab a pic of the one and only CAT, but that was their loss. He
waited at the curb for Joshua to catch up, fully expecting them to fall into
step beside each other, but the pointed, expectant look he received instead
gave him pause.
“Aren’t you going to escort me?” It was spoken offhandedly, blasé, with a hint
of confusion, as if the lack of the offer on Hanekoma’s end was the oddity.
“Demanding as ever, huh?” If there was a bluff, he decided to call it, and held
out his elbow in tacit concession. Fluid and easy, Joshua stepped to his side,
linking their arms together snugly with a small, self-satisfied smile. It
should have been worrisome to know the other hadn’t grown completely out of
being a brat, but Hanekoma didn’t feel anything but endearment as he started to
make his way towards the large glass double-doors of the gallery, Joshua a
warm, solid presence against him.
His agent met them halfway, expression shifting from relief to slight terror
when he noticed Hanekoma had not arrived alone.
“Glad to see you finally made it. Who is this?”
“Joshua. He’s my plus one.”
“Your—” He pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving an enormous, longsuffering,
thank goodness you’re a stickler for anonymity because otherwise you’d be a
walking, talking PR nightmare sigh. “You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”
“It didn’t come up.” Hanekoma shrugged, weakly, by way of apology, but before
his agent could launch into an anxiety-fueled tirade, a shrill round of screams
sounded behind them. A glance over his shoulder told him The Prince had
arrived, if a flash of platinum blonde hair and spotless white clothing was any
indication. It was getting difficult to tell amongst all the chaos brewing.
“Fine. Okay. Just…get inside before that mob breaks past security and tramples
us all.”
After exchanging an amused grin with Joshua, Hanekoma did just that, heading up
the rest of the steps and slipping into the gallery’s much calmer main hall.
The only noise was made from murmured conversations and the muted click-click
of high heels and dress shoes on the polished floors. Joshua was already
peering around the room, curiously, but he did not move away to get closer to
whatever had caught his interest. It was just as well, since Hanekoma had
something else in mind. Using his free hand, he plucked a champagne flute off
one of the trays waiters were carrying about the hall and offered it to Joshua,
who accepted with a small word of thanks.
“There’s something I wanna show ya,” Hanekoma said, grabbing his own glass and
angling his head meaningfully towards the back of the gallery.
“I’d be silly to refuse a request like that from the artist himself.” A demure,
cursory sip of his drink didn’t quite hide Joshua’s smirk. “Let’s go.”
The room Hanekoma brought him to was the largest in the building, but one of
its walls was nearly taken up entirely by a single, massive painting. He didn’t
need to point out this was what he’d referred to, and nor did he stop Joshua
when he finally slipped away to stand closer to the art, fixated by the sweep
and swirl of color. Patiently, he waited and watched, eyes following Joshua’s
measured paces along the length of the work, taking note of where he lingered
for a minute or two longer. When the other doubled back and reached his
starting point once more, he turned around, pinning Hanekoma with an
inscrutable look.
“Why did you want me to see this one so badly?”
“I made it with you in mind.” It was the bare, full truth, and something
Hanekoma had never planned to hide. For a fraction of a second, Joshua’s eyes
widened. Maybe he hadn’t expected honesty. Maybe he hadn’t expected such a
statement at all.
“I like it,” he settled on, giving the painting another once-over. “Thank you.”
“Wasn’t fishin’ for gratitude.” In response, Joshua just shook his head
helplessly, like he was irrecoverably misunderstood, but he didn’t remark on
it.
“Show me everything else.”
And Hanekoma did, leading Joshua through the rest of the gallery, answering a
smattering of questions and weathering the occasional criticism. By the time
they circled around to the entrance again, the crowd had swelled with
latecomers and the odd celebrity, who all caused minor commotions just by
existing. The atmosphere degraded into something unsuited for close
conversation, which Hanekoma had hoped for once Joshua was done observing all
the art. Well, there was more than one way to go about this, even if slipping
out early would probably send his agent into fits.
“Hey.” He nudged Joshua’s side lightly. “The night’s still young. Want to go
someplace else?”
“Depends.” Ignoring the grab for his attention, Joshua set his empty champagne
flute on the tray of a waiter walking by before he finally looked over at
Hanekoma. “What did you have in mind?”
“I know a good bar not too far from here. Thought it’d be a good place to catch
up.” Risking Kitaniji’s possible scrutiny was unavoidable, an inconvenience
he’d have to deal with in exchange for relative calm and a space he felt
comfortable in.
“Okay.” The agreement was ready and easy, without even a moment of feigned
contemplation, and not for the first time, Hanekoma wondered if the other had
also been waiting for the right moment to bring up the hulking and obtrusive
elephant that lurked in every room they entered. “Another drink or two sounds
fine.”
It didn’t take much effort to slip back down to the street without Hanekoma’s
agent catching them, even less to convince the chauffeur to drive them
somewhere that wasn’t to their apartments. A hefty tip even ensured he’d wait
around to take them back home when all was said and done.
The trip was a short one, but Hanekoma’s phone started ringing the moment he
stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk, full of the nocturnal crowds just
beginning their nightlife. He turned it off swiftly, more than willing to deal
with those consequences at a later time. Spending a few uninterrupted hours
with Joshua, just to talk like they used to, was of paramount importance.
“This is it.” He gestured towards the building in question with his—blissfully
silent—phone, before sliding it into his pocket.
“ ‘The Dead God’s Pad’?” Joshua read, peering up at the stylized letters
hanging on the outer wall, white neon glowing softly at the edges to create a
pale halo effect. “That’s an interesting name for a bar.”
“The owner’s an interesting guy.” Hanekoma pushed the door open and inclined
his head forward. “After you.”
Kitaniji was, unfortunately, not dealing with any other customers when they
made their way inside, meaning the full brunt of his attention was turned
towards the entryway. His gaze swept over Joshua with mild interest, taking
stock of a new face, but when it reached Hanekoma, his eyes narrowed with sharp
curiosity. At least he waited until they approached the bar before he started
to probe.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of you bringing company?”
“We were at my gig until it got a little overrun.” Hanekoma leaned his elbow
against the counter, angling his body to the side so he could address the both
of them at once. “So much for an ‘exclusive’ opening. Anyway, Josh, this is
Megumi Kitaniji. He owns this joint, and we go way back. Megumi, this is Joshua
Kiryu.”
He didn’t know what addendum he should tack on after saying Joshua’s name. They
weren’t technically a couple, and former student, rang hollow, but Kitaniji
managed to fill the gaps in for him.
“So you’re Joshua. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
“Finally?” Joshua echoed. “I’ve been spoken of, before?”
“Often. And quite fondly, I might add.” Hanekoma barely held back a sheepish
wince, already thinking of interjecting to adjust the route of the
conversation. What Kitaniji said wasn’t a lie, and wasn’t even said to
purposefully get a rise out of him, but he’d rather deal with that topic when
he had a better sense of where Joshua stood. Thankfully, it switched tracks
without his interference. “But that can wait. What would you like to drink?”
“Hmm. Can you make a Melon Ball?”
“I can make whatever you wish.” Kitaniji was already reaching for one of the
bottles behind him. “The usual, Sanae?”
“The usual,” he agreed, keeping one wary eye on Joshua, not quite sure what to
make of the keenly intrigued look the other was sporting. After a few minutes,
Kitaniji slid over a highball glass filled with honeydew green liquid,
garnished with a pineapple slice and maraschino cherry, which Joshua
immediately plucked out of the drink to eat.
“So.” He spun the stem between his index finger and thumb, leaning over the
counter slightly. “You two know each other well?”
“Since college,” Kitaniji replied mildly, putting the lid on top of a shaker.
“That means you have stories, don’t you?” And with a cold, creeping dread,
Hanekoma realized he should have been more worried about Joshua’s insatiable
curiosity to begin with. Kitaniji may not volunteer any information, but he
certainly wouldn’t protest very much if asked a direct question.
“Hey, hey. I didn’t come here for any of that.” He shot both of them a
meaningful, if slightly feeble, glower. Unflappable as always, Joshua only
shrugged, while Kitaniji impassively slid a finished drink across the bar.
“Thanks. We’ll be at a table.”
“Just tell me if you need another round. And again, it was nice meeting you,
Joshua.”
“Same here.” He waved, amicably, before following Hanekoma back to a spot just
far enough away from all the other patrons that their conversations turned into
a muted buzz in the background. Once settled, he brought his glass to his lips,
smiling archly over the rim before he took a sip. “I like your friend.”
“ ‘Course ya do.” Hanekoma shook his head, but didn’t shift his gaze from the
way all the colored lights in the bar—the soft blue set near the floor to make
the tile look like water under glass, the gold of the lamps shining faintly
along the walls, the green and pink of neon from the city leaking in from one
of the high windows—reflected in Joshua’s eyes. A whirl of pigment against a
backdrop of violet. He’d have to remember it for later. “If you’re done
laughing at my expense, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you
about.”
“I had a feeling.” Joshua sighed, absently drumming his fingers on the
tabletop. “Seems like a waste to bring anything up when it’s been such a nice
night, but I see the necessity.”
“You do?” Even if the other could be forthcoming at times, that
straightforwardness concerning a conversation centered on emotions was more
than surprising.
“I do.” He regarded Hanekoma thoughtfully, fixedly, like he was trying to solve
some mystery using clues from a facial expression alone. “I’m not seeing
anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I—well, it was a question I had, but not the first I was gonna ask.” Taking a
long swig of his drink, he mulled over his next words. “Do you even want to,
then?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Joshua said, slowly. “I didn’t spend my time laying
around and pining for you. But at the same time, it wasn’t like we ended on bad
terms.”
“You couldn’t lie and say you pined a little, for my ego’s sake? That’s cold,
J.” The teasing earned a hint of a smile, one tamped down purposefully to hide
full amusement, a kind Hanekoma was familiar with. “I guess I can’t say I was
wasting away, either. I missed you, of course. But even when that break was
fresh, I was glad you were off doing what you wanted to.”
“For the best, and all that.” He spoke with a lingering bitterness that
Hanekoma didn’t know what to make of, what it was directed towards. “People
would say I should regret something. That I should have waited and been happier
for it. I don’t, though. And just because I understand why we had to call
things off doesn’t mean I have to be glad about it, even now.”
“Maybe I would have come to the conclusion myself, eventually, but…you were the
one who brought it up first.”
“I know.” Joshua shrugged one shoulder, running his fingertip in a circle,
round and round the rim of his glass. “I thought that might make things easier
for me. It didn’t.”
“Y’know, I’m not used to this kinda honesty from you.” His grin was wry. “Did
you change that much?”
“It’s not, exactly. I’m not saying more than I need to.” The bridge of Joshua’s
nose wrinkled in distaste. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
“Can’t say I wasn’t, a little,” Hanekoma admitted. “Even though I knew you were
going to change. It’d be impossible for you not to.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s—” Not important, nothing, never mind. But so long as one of them was
being candid, he might as well make it two. “I guess I didn’t know what I’d do
if I was still hung up on someone I didn’t recognize anymore.”
“Mm. Might be better than hoping you don’t come back to someone who regretted
all the time they spent with you.” Joshua had his head turned away pointedly,
towards the rest of the customers in the bar, and even after years had passed,
Hanekoma’s first instinct was to offer some kind of reassurance, to smooth away
a little of that nihilism. “It wouldn’t be something I could protest. We never
made any promises.”
Not even I’ll wait for you. In the aftermath, as much as Hanekoma told himself
that keeping everything unbinding had been for the better, he could not find a
compelling reason for why he ever let his feelings for Joshua, the ones that
filled that wall-sized painting, remain unvoiced. His excuses, as it turned
out, were not bottomless. A lie by omission and outright dishonesty had a
difference as small as the shift of ice in Hanekoma’s glass when he tilted it,
watching the liquid slosh over the cubes.
“Look, Josh, there’s no way we can pick up where we left off but—”
“Tell me a story.” He took a slow sip of his drink, swiping his tongue along
his bottom lip afterwards. Hanekoma tracked the motion. He’d taste like sweet
alcohol if they kissed. “Since you won’t let me pry them out of anyone else. We
can trade.”
“Yeah, all right. You’ll get your sordid tales. But you should let me finish.”
Thankfully, that seemed to catch the other’s attention, since he stayed any
further interruptions. “If you can keep next weekend open, I’d like to take you
out. No celebrities this time.”
“So long as it’s someplace nice,” Joshua replied, blithely, but his smile was
genuine and untempered and more than enough.
It was a start.
xxiii.
Joshua’s phone had not stopped vibrating. When the first text notification had
interrupted his sleep, he merely yanked the blankets over his head and ignored
it. But another followed, and then one after that, and then a call, and then a
few more texts, and then yet another call. Whoever was trying to get his
attention was not going to stop.
Huffing in annoyance, he rolled over and fumbled for his phone on the bedside
table, peering blearily at the screen. With no small amount of displeasure, he
noted that it was only quarter-past nine. The last thing he needed after one
drink had turned into a few, after agreeing to stay and talk for only five more
minutes turned into hours, after getting home at 3am, was someone cutting into
what little rest he managed.
Before he could check to see who he should be directing his incensed thoughts
towards, his phone provided the answer for him in the form of an incoming call.
Koko. With a sigh, Joshua swiped his thumb over the screen to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Check the PrinceWatch blog.”
“Oh, I’m just fine, thanks for asking. How are you?”
“Check the PrinceWatch blog,” Koko repeated, apparently in no mood to deal with
Joshua’s usual sarcasm.
“Are you going to enlighten me as to why you find it necessary I read a blog
about where an internet celebrity has been?”
“I don’t know Joshua. Like, maybe you can tell me.”
“What would I know about it?”
“If you checked the blog like I said to, you’d see!” She was tapping her foot
so forcefully with impatience, Joshua could hear it, very faintly, through the
phone. “And then you have something to explain to me.”
“All right. Give me a minute.” Yawning, he pulled himself out of bed and
shuffled into the living room, locating his tablet where he’d left it on the
coffee table. Settling back on the couch, he typed “PrinceWatch” one-handed
into the search bar and tapped on the first link that popped up.
The most recent entry had apparently been posted late the night before,
featuring a slightly blurry, cellphone-quality picture of The Prince in mid-
wave. If all the little hints of other people’s sleeves and hair and fingers
creeping into the edges of the photo were any indication, it was taken in the
middle of a crowd. All and all, nothing remarkable—until Joshua finally noticed
he recognized the location as the exhibit gallery. And once he became aware of
that, he spotted himself in the background, arm linked with Hanekoma’s. The
camera must have caught them as they were turning around to see what all the
commotion was about, since they sported twin looks of mildly bemused curiosity.
“Did you see it yet?”
“Well,” Joshua said, scrolling down to skim the entry below. “It’s not a bad
picture.”
“That’s totally not the point!” Indignant, Koko made a garbled noise of
frustration before rushing on. “What were you doing at CAT’s exhibit with a
very certain someone? You didn’t even tell me you’d seen him! And how’d you get
an invite to that anyway?”
“I ran into him at the airport when I came back from my last trip. He asked me
to go with him to the opening. I said yes, and I didn’t see him again until
then, so I guess it never came up.”
“It never—? Wait, oh my god, he’s not there right now is he?”
“No.” Joshua sighed. “He had something to do this morning, so staying over was
out. If he was here, though, I’d be much too distracted to be talking to you.”
“Fine, like, whatever.” Silence for a beat. And then, “you’re not planning on
ditching Neku today, right?”
“Of course not. No reason I can’t go to the exhibit twice.”
“Then you’re gonna meet the both of us for lunch at Ramen Don in three hours.
You can, like, tell me everything then. Okay? Bye!”
“Koko—” But she had already hung up before he could get another word in. It
seemed he had no choice.
After setting his tablet aside he stood, stretching, and kept his phone in hand
to compose a text as he made his way to the kitchen. Hanekoma said he had to
deal with post-opening tasks, such as gauging the reception and scheduling more
interviews, but Joshua had a feeling he’d be grateful for the diversion a
message of good morning. Did you know we were caught by the amateur paparazzi?
would bring. It didn’t take long—halfway through the coffee maker’s cycle—for a
reply to come.
Sanae:
Were we?
Not a big deal it’ll probably be gone soon
How’d you find it?
Re:
Koko brought it to my attention
What do you mean by ‘it’ll probably be gone soon’?
Sanae:
Can’t have many photos of me at things associated with CAT out there
People might start connecting the dots
Re:
You have to be that paranoid?
Sanae:
I don’t
But you met my agent so you get the idea.
Re:
Speaking of your secret identity
I’m meeting Koko and Neku for lunch later
At which, I’m sure there will be questions about how you managed to get an
invitation to an exclusive art exhibit opening
Sanae:
Guess you can’t keep a lid on it when it comes to those two
So you can tell them
Re:
Are you sure?
You know me, I can probably come up with something to placate them
Sanae:
Yeah
If we’re together it’s bound to come up sometime anyway
Besides Koko can keep a secret and Neku seems like too big of a fan to spill
who CAT really is
Re:
I’m looking forward to his reaction
Sanae:
I’m sure you are
But my agent’s looking like he’s planning on confiscating my phone if I keep
texting
So I need to go
Re:
I’ll be so bored without you, though
Sanae:
Stop trying to get me in trouble Josh
Have fun at lunch I’ll talk to you later
He sent off a goodbye text just as he finished nibbling on the toast he’d made
during the exchange. There were still a couple hours before he had to head out,
and he was in no hurry besides. His vindictive side thought it only appropriate
Koko was forced to wait, just a little, for robbing him of extra sleep. So he
busied himself with small tasks, reading e-mails and running the dishwasher and
reorganizing his closet, before he decided to get ready.
When he finally arrived at Ramen Don and headed inside, Neku and Koko already
had their food. But service was prompt at the restaurant, and Joshua didn’t
think he was that late.
“Okay. You’re here. Now spill.” Koko, either too used to this sort of behavior
or too burningly inquisitive to care, didn’t remark on his tardiness.
“I don’t even get to sit down?” Joshua complained as he did just that, and
called out my usual, please to Ken Doi, who waved at him in recognition behind
the counter at the right side of the building. “Well, where to begin?”
“Start with how, like, any of this happened.”
“Like I said, when I came back from my visit, I ran into him at the airport.
Completely coincidentally. We split a cab, and when the conversation turned to
the CAT exhibit, he invited me to it.” Shrugging, he grabbed the stray wrapper
from one of the others’ straws and rolled it into a ball. “Simple as that.”
“And you went with him?” Since she started her interrogation, Koko hadn’t
touched her food. In contrast, Neku kept steadily eating, but Joshua didn’t
miss the sidelong glances shot his way. Their combined focus, despite being
rooted in care and concern, was a heavy and smothering shroud he wished he
could cast off.
“Obviously, if there’s photographic evidence.” He sighed, leaning back more in
his chair. “I don’t understand why you’re acting so surprised about this. I
told you both, I’d contact him when I got back and settled. Just because luck
sped up the process doesn’t make it different.”
“It’s because you didn’t say anything!” Koko folded her arms, keeping quiet
long enough for Joshua’s ramen and a glass of water to be set in front of him
before she forged on. “You could have, like, at least mentioned, ‘oh by the way
I met up with my former teacher who I still have a huge thing for.’”
“Teac—” Neku choked on a mouthful of noodles, turning his head to the side to
cough while Joshua absently patted his back. “Teacher? He was your teacher? You
never told me that!”
“It’s a long story. You never asked for the details.” Once sure the other
wasn’t going to suffocate, Joshua picked up his chopsticks and plucked a bamboo
shoot out of the small pile in his bowl. When he finally decided to tell them,
it had been a relief, but a trial, to recount every single relevant event in
those three years to Koko. But Neku had been appeased with more generalities,
an overview of points, and was more concerned with what Joshua was going to do
next. And although it had taken much longer than the day he brought it up for
their worries and anger to be assuaged, they were eventually content so long as
Joshua was. “And I didn’t want to say anything unless something came out of it.
Otherwise, why bother?”
“Because if it went badly we could, like, be there for you. Since, you know,
we’re your friends.” Koko rolled her eyes, but almost immediately afterwards
she leaned over the table, gaze trained on Joshua’s face. “But you’re saying
something did come out of it?”
“Mm.” He was in the middle of chewing, so he only made a soft sound of
agreement.
“Wait. Wait, ugh, I totally should have known when you said the only reason he
didn’t stay over was like, because he had something to do this morning.” She
playfully kicked his ankle under the table, barely harder than a nudge, and
returned to her food. “I’m going to make things suuuuper awkward the next time
I see you two together to get you back for not telling us sooner.”
“Hey, get me in the loop with this teacher thing—” Neku started, glaring when
Joshua made a dismissive gesture. “—sometime, but I read all over the place
that unless you won a raffle, or were a celebrity or fellow artist or someone
who donated a bunch to the gallery, it was impossible to get an invitation to
CAT’s opening. So how the hell did he get one?”
“Ah. That would be because it’s Sanae’s exhibit.” Nonchalantly, he took another
bite of noodles, enjoying the varying degrees of confusion he saw flickering
across his friends’ expressions.
“You’re like, kidding.” Koko stared at him, blankly. “There’s no way.”
“If I was lying to you, I’d certainly come up with a better story.”
“So what you’re telling me is that you’re dating CAT?” Neku’s tone bordered on
incredulous, but as seconds ticked by into a minute and Joshua did nothing but
calmly continue to eat his lunch, his voice dropped to a sulky, dismayed
whisper. “That’s not fair.”
To his credit, Joshua tried not to laugh. He managed to suppress the first bout
of hysterics down to a muffled pfffffffft, but even though he covered his mouth
with the back of his hand, he couldn’t help bursting into giggles eventually.
He barely heard Neku saying, it’s not funny! It’s not funny Josh, stop it! in
the midst of his fit.
“It’s, like, a little funny, Neku,” Koko added, once it had died down to
snickers and Joshua was able to sip some water. “Look on the bright side, you
get to meet him now!”
“You do. Show him your art too, he likes seeing the up and coming talent.” At
the prospect, Neku paled and fidgeted with his napkin, in what seemed to be
both trepidation and eagerness. “Speaking of which, how is that going?”
For long stretches of his life, Joshua felt as though he was watching the world
rush by from a window, like a sped up film reel showing the exchange of seasons
in a matter of seconds, identical and boring days spooling out endlessly. But
now, as the conversation turned from Neku’s latest projects to Koko expressing
her excitement over possibly working on celebrity wedding, he was present.
At some point, late at night in an unfamiliar apartment in an unfamiliar city,
he realized how his insistence on a split showed foresight he had not meant it
to. He realized what Hanekoma letting go had really done for him. The
constraints he spoke of, the expectations he had always felt tethered to, could
be shaken off if he was on his own and willing.
He was given happiness as a parting gift. And now, now that he was unencumbered
and his eyes were fixed ahead and they had time, there was no reason at all not
to return it.
xxiv.
“Why in the world is everything you own monochrome? Aren’t you an artist?”
Hanekoma opened his eyes, peering up at the ceiling before shifting his gaze
over to Joshua, who was fussing about the large cluster of boxes that nearly
took up one side of the living room.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Isn’t your taste supposed to be more colorful and eccentric?” Joshua turned
around, frowning, and stalked over to the edge of the couch. It was the one
piece of furniture besides the bed that had arrived so far, and Hanekoma was
taking advantage by lounging lengthwise on it, feet hanging off the armrest.
“You could get up from there and help me unpack, you know.”
“C’mon, J. It doesn’t have to be done right away.” Packing them up had been
exhausting enough. “Relax.”
“Well, fine. I guess I’ll do it myself.” He sighed, longsuffering, his tone
deceptively resigned. “Maybe I could start with the kitchen and your espresso
machine. Although I don’t know what I’m doing with it, so it wouldn’t be my
fault at all if I accidentally broke something…”
“No ya don’t.” Reaching out, Hanekoma grabbed his wrist before he could get
away and pulled, tugging him down onto the couch into a tangle of limbs. Joshua
landed with an indignant noise, struggling for a moment before he exhaled
sharply and stilled. There was enough room for both of them to lie side by side
if they wanted, but Joshua remained where he was, and only shifted enough to
get somewhat comfortable, pillowing his head just below Hanekoma’s chin.
“We really do have to get it done sometime soon,” he murmured.
“ ‘Course, your highness.” Hanekoma brought one hand up to pet Joshua’s hair,
fingers running through the waves in slow, even strokes. “Just takin’ a little
break first.”
“Uh-huh.” He practically melted at the touch, body going limp with relaxation.
The other’s sweater—worn as long as the chill he hated lingered, even through
early spring—was wrinkled a bit on one side from his wriggling before, and
Hanekoma absently smoothed it out, resting his palm against the small of
Joshua’s back afterwards.
Honestly, he’d expected Joshua to be more territorial about sharing a place. Or
even practical about it, considering a good majority of their things had ended
up at each other’s apartments already. But he seemed sincerely pleased with the
idea, in a way that went beyond just the convenience of it. A far cry from the
boy who ensconced himself in briars that Hanekoma had first met.
At times, those walls went up, and at times Hanekoma wondered if he was fooling
himself with this fulfillment, like it was ill-gotten. It was terrible to think
he’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he had to, but he could feel Joshua
breathing softly against him and he’d hang onto that, onto what he waited for
and loved. How could he truly regret anything that led to the end of leaving
all his canvases blank and unfinished?
And he might not be looking forward to dragging himself away from this warmth
to deal with the daunting pile of boxes, either, but slowly the emptiness of
the new apartment would be filled, and that was something he’d like to see. As
incongruous as it would be to have Joshua’s neatness, the organized way he kept
his innumerous hair products and clothes and sheets of his composition rough
drafts, at odds with Hanekoma’s sprawl of paints and sketchbooks, there was no
longer any barrier between them.
“Hey, Josh. When your piano gets here, play me something.”
“Mmn. All right.” He stirred, just barely, and Hanekoma bit back a chuckle.
They’d make this theirs, he thought. They’d make this home.
Chapter End Notes
     So some little details, first of all.
     This is an Eldredge tie knot. Fancy, right?
     A Melon Ball is a cocktail with Midori melon liqueur, vodka, and
     orange or pineapple juice. They're pretty good, and I'd imagine if
     Joshua went to school in the states, he'd get a taste for the crazy
     amount of cocktails at trendy college bars.
     Also, if you're wondering what that big painting Hanekoma showed
     Joshua actually is, well, here. Look familiar? Ahaha. I have the
     headcanon that that particular mural, which is the one leading up to
     The Room of Reckoning in the non-AU canon, was a gift from Hanekoma
     to Joshua when he became the Composer. Now, I guess I decided to make
     it a gift in all universes.
     Since I think that's everything in regards to the fic content...whew.
     This was a ride in a half. I can't believe a stray idea of "there's
     no teacher/student AU, I should rectify this" turned into this thing.
     But I had a lot of fun writing it, despite it being exhausting at
     times, and I hope you all did too. This pairing has become very dear
     to me, and if, through my writing, I made you like it, or simply
     strengthened what you already liked, I'd be very happy. If I've
     inspired you to go off and do your own art/writing for them, please
     let me know! There's no greater compliment I can receive.
     And once more, thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments.
     They mean a lot to me and keep me going at some points. I'm so glad
     to write things others enjoy.
     Until next time!
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