That night, Makishima sees who he swears is the most beautiful man in the world.
The man is leaning against a steel lamppost, clear umbrella glistening with luminous rain and crystal hail.
He catches his breath, because the soft halo of light behind the man is throwing his face into subdued shadow, illuminating the delicate curve of his nose, the recherché lilt of his lips. There is a dull burn in his chest, soft sweetness at the edges of the cold, and Makishima wonders if this is what they called love at first sight.
The man sees him staring, and turns his head. Makishima is frozen, snow drifting around him in waves, layering on his scarf, his jacket. There are snowflakes on his lips, his eyelashes, but he doesn't notice, doesn't care because dear god, a human cannot be that beautiful.
Blue, he thinks.
So much blue. Blue in his jacket, azure in his eyes.
And now the man is smiling and walking towards him, stride light and swift. Makishima's throat is chocked with frost and silence and just 100% awkwardness, and never in his life had he hated his genetics so much.
"Hey," The man says, voice just on the edge of breathless, and Makishima can feel himself spiraling even further down this hell.
"Hi." He manages to get out, avoiding the other's eyes as desperately as possible, knowing that even the slightest glance would give it all away.
"Makishima!" Tadokoro bellows, throwing a arm around Makishima's shoulder only the way close friends can, a pint of beer already in his other hand, obvious warmth in his eyes.
"Hey," Makishima says back, clasping his arm in return. "It's been awhile, hasn't it."
"No joking," Tadokoro says, easily, and Makishima relaxes as he returns to their old-time rhythm. "I've been getting a lot of orders for wedding cakes lately," Tadokoro muses, downing his beer. "Must be that time of year."
"Is there usually a pattern?" Makishima opens his own drink with a deft twist.
"It's the springtime." Tadokoro leans back and rubs a hand at his brow, and Makishima notices, not for the first time, the wrinkles that were forming with the passage of time and stress. "But it's worth it." He smiles. "The look on their faces says it all."
"Hmm." Makishima runs his fingers around the rim of his bottle, staring into the murky contents.
"Speaking of which," Tadokoro slaps his back heartily. "Have you found anyone yet? You're such a charmer." He winks.
"Hah!" Makishima snickers, downing his drink. "You must be joking."
"I'm not, actually," Tadokoro looks at him with an odd smile. "Actually-"
Makishima takes another swig, dropping the bottle on the bar with a satisfying thud. After Tadokoro had found out about his sexuality, there had been no end to matchmaking sessions that had all, without a doubt, ended horribly. Guys named Hirose and Daisuke who would, from the get-go, try to take him to a hotel room, numerous memories of spilled red wine and honking taxis; Makishima definitely had enough.
"No, hear me out! I have this friend, Shinkai, and he says he has a friend who-"
"No." Makishima says with a finality. "No more. Besides," He traces a wood grain with his fingers, not meeting Tadokoro's eyes. "I'm too busy with work anyways."
The bar was dim, turned hazy at the corners with the effect of alcohol, soft gold lights flickering above them and shining on the clear racks of countless bottles behind the counter. There was laughter, conversation, behind them at tables; a lively murmur that made it easy for Makishima to pretend his focus was elsewhere.
"One last time." Tadokoro puts an arm around him again. "Please. "
It must've been the alcohol, Makishima would think when he remembered that moment. There was no other way he would've said
"Fine."
And his date had enthusiastically introduced himself as Toudou Jinpachi! Nice to meet you! planned to meet him at the corner right around the corner of the fashion corporation that Makishima worked at.
And now he was waiting, holding his breath, and wishing beyond hope that Toudou Jinpachi didn't arrive.
"Are you...Makishima Yuusuke?"
Makishima almost chokes on his scarf. Could it be- "Yes."
An achingly perfect smile breaks across the man's face as he reaches out his hand for a introduction. "Hi. I'm Toudou Jinpachi." The blue eyes are boring into him, and Makishima can almost feel the edges of his heart searing.
"Hi." Makishima murmurs, feeling stark disbelief that he hoped wouldn't show in his voice.
"Shall we?" Toudou inclines his head down the street, breath coming out in icy clouds. With a start, Makishima remembers that they were arranged to have dinner.
He and Toudou walk in silence for the stretch of the street, and Makishima's mind is still reeling, because this being, this unearthly beauty, was walking with him.
Until, he opened his mouth.
Makishima quickly found out that Toudou Jinpachi was nothing less than a narcissist, nothing more than a photographer, the most insufferable person on the planet. And he could make Makishima laugh so hard his chest felt like it was about to implode.
"Maki-chan," Toudou starts, cheeks pink with cold.
"Maki-chan?" Makishima scoffs.
"Maki-chan!" Toudou says again, smiling so hard it was infectious, and Makishima found himself smiling back.
When they reach the restaurant, Makishima has lost track of the time they took to get there, and he feels comfortable with Toudou, bantering with him as if they'd done this for a million years.
"And then there's my fanclub I had in high school," Toudou continues, even as they sit down at a table. "There were so many people, Maki-chan! They would come to cheer me on in cycling races-"
"Wait," Makishima interrupted. "You cycle?"
Toudou pushes his hair back. "Only the very best, Maki-chan! I was a climber," he says, and his pride is obvious.
"I was a climber too!" Makishima leans forward, meeting his eyes in a rush as the waiter puts down two long flutes, full of bubbling gold and stars.
"Really? This is fate, Maki-chan!" Toudou exclaims, eyes bright, shining with spirit and youth.
"Yeah." Makishima breathes, heart pounding in his ears, in his throat.
They have their fill of champagne, and continue their banter, silent only after their food arrives and they can't speak for the taste.
The night passes by in a haze of laughter and all Makishima can think is how relaxed he feels, leaning back against his chair and laughing at Toudou's stories, abandoning all pretense of formality.
And afterwards, they walk together to the station, and Toudou turns to face him, holds his hands in his, and murmurs, "I would really like to see you again."
"I do too." Makishima confesses.
No, Makishima did not believe in love at first sight.
But maybe, when he looks back on this years from now, older and content, when someone asks him how he felt in that moment, what he saw, he would say it was simply,
Love at first sight.
