1
The door to the workshop were open. From the inside, a thin stream of light illuminated on the darkness covering the rest of the building. Takemoto stood still in front of the entrance to this little, covered with dust room. The room so full of ideas, hopes and failed dreams. "There's no reason for me to be here." He suddenly thought. Little ashamed, he started to withdraw, aiming for the exit door of the academy. But in this very moment, a terrifying noise of something falling down came out from inside.
"Christ, are you ok?" Without hesitation, he stepped into the room, pushing the door with his whole body and making them wide open. The impact was so strong that they hit the wall and slamed behind him.
"Ow!" Takemoto shouted out of surprise and pain. Suddenly he found himself lying on his back, presumably after slipping on the fresh paint covering the floor.
"What the…" The paint was bloated not only on the floor, colorful smudges were firmly everywhere – on the walls, sculptures, even at the ceiling. Then he realized that there is another person in this room, also sitting on its bottom and making big eyes. This person was the source of the previous noise – it looked like he did the same acrobatic action as Takemoto the second ago. Next to the guy lied a big can, formerly full of green paint, which now was covering his forehand (it was the same paint that Takemoto slipped on, the room was so small that it was no surprise it spread all over it) . Their glances crossed.
"Hahaha!" Morita laughed. "That was a big entrance!"
"That's all your fault!" Takemoto got angry. "You scared the shit outta me!"
He responded with one of his honest, disarming smiles.
"…So", a young, tall man with short, gray hair, calm, or even a little tired blue eyes and sad look on the visage, stood on his a little shaking legs, "You're back."
"Yep." Morita nodded, still sitting on the floor, not making any effort to change position. He made a face that resembled Takemoto of a ferret. Sorry, all this "being cute" thing is not fetching me. He thought.
"How was L.A.?"
"Fine."
"I thought you were going to live there. At least your brother said so. Are you back just to visit your old friends? And why you didn't call me?" The last question was asked only on Takemoto's head.
"No, I'm staying. I had a fight with big bro, I don't think he'll forgive me. I also quit the job at a digital design studio, so nothing kept me in the US." While speaking he had the same big smile on his face as always.
"O…Oh… I'm sorry to hear that." Takemoto tried to say something more, but he hesitated and ended up with his mouth open. It was the first time Morita so frankly shared details from his life, especially so dramatic. Takemoto had understood this is very critical moment in his friend's life. He'd known the feeling… when the burden is so big it's overwhelming. He needs to do something… anything. Quickly, before the anxiety he had been always feeling from Morita turn into a monster.
"Shall we sit?" the sentence sliced the thick air. Grey haired men took two chairs standing somewhere in the corner of the room, by a miracle not covered with paint and putted it an face one another. "Should I help you to stand?"
"…No". Morita sighed. He slowly got back on his legs and with his head down took a few steps forward. Now there was about half a meter of brown-green floor between them.
They stood like this for a second, like there was an invisible wall. And in the moment Takemoto opened his mouth, Morita raised his covered with paint hand as if he wanted to silent him down. But despite of that…
He put a hand on his friend's chest.
Takemoto's heart started to beat up faster. What the hell's this feeling…? He was shocked so much he stood like paralyzed. Suddenly he shivered. Please, don't. Let me go. I don't want you to feel my heart pounding!
Morita finally took his hand away. "Look, now you are an Indian."
Takemoto was really confused with the statement. "What?"
"The emblem I made on your shirt."
"E…emblem?" He looked down. There it was – a green print of a hand.
"Hey, this looks great!" Morita stared at him like he was a dummy in a shop. He felt like a dummy, really. " I'm gonna sell the pattern and make some money!"
"You are an ass!" Who would guessed the first thing Morita will do after meeting each other after almost two years would be pissing him off.
"Why, sorry," Morita grinned and… started to take Takemoto's shirt off.
"Wah… mhhff!" It was too late to resist. "What the fuck are you doing?" Despite harsh words, his face went all red not only because of anger.
"You know, if I want to sell it, I need to take it with me, stupid." Morita started to laugh ridiculously.
"That's not it…!" Takemoto haven't finished his sentence. So what exactly is that feeling? "I don't have a mood to play. Give it back!" He shouted desperately. He felt a blood inflowing to his cheeks, he was so ashamed… like a teenage girl, when a boy sees her wearing only her underwear. What is going on with me!
"Stupid, and what's with my money?" Morita cheered and hid a shirt behind his back.
"What your money! I haven't made this shirt by myself, you know! You have to repay me for it!" Takenoto curl up his naked shoulders, still blushing, which contrasted with tough sound of his voice.
"So you want me to repay for it or give it back?"
"Stop playing with me!" He wanted this torture to stop. Stop…please, stop… "Stop playing with me!"
"Dude, chill up. You don't have to say it twice." Morita was still smiling. Takemoto had a big urge to show this bright, blue, happy eyes a close-up of his fist. "Here ya go…" He handed him a white roll.
Takemoto took it quickly and started to dress up, wondering how smooth it went. Morita he knew in such situation would try to run away with his new obtained treasure, or at least throw it out of a window. Has he.. matured?
"Yo, Takemoto", Morita stopped the flow of his thoughts. "You know what, I want to see your place."
"…My place?"
"Your flat."
Takemoto felt confused for the second time this evening. What is that sudden request supposed to mean? He haven't forgotten that chatting with light-headed Morita, who always quickly hanged the topics and couldn't stick with one thought, had been a hard task. But today his weirdness was unbelievable. Maybe the US had a bad influence on him, or… his brother…something was wrong, utterly wrong. And anyway, what is wrong with himself? Sure, he wanted so badly to see his old friend, he felt happy from the very moment Hagu called him and said that Hanamoto-sensei had met Morita in the workshop. Yes, so Morita-style, they laughed. He felt delightful to hear her voice, but this feeling had washed away, like an old painting… He decided to visit Morita right away. But when he stood behind the door… his heart started to pound fast, forehead got all sweaty… this feeling of fear and excitement at the same time… the one he had felt when thinking about meeting Hagu back in school… And his stupid embarrassment… He flinched. This won't end up well. Then, a sudden ironic thought crossed his mind.
"You don't want to go to my flat to sleep, do you? Because hotel room is too expensive?"
Morita laughed. Loudly and spontaneously, like always. "Of course not! I just want to see how you live!"
"Yeah, right."
"But. I just want some coffee…"
"OK! You can go see my house!" Takemoto understood that he had no reason to argue in such hopeless situation, with a man who didn't understand the word "no".
"Yay! And by the way – you look cute when you blush".
No, he haven't matured. He haven't matured at all.
2
"You live in an antique shop?"
"Well, not exactly. My flat is above it, but yeah, the store belongs to me." Takemoto tried to sound decent, but to think of it, it's not a bad thing to show off to always successful Morita.
"That's not much, but I can make a living this way. I also rent one room to two female art students. I wonder if they are home."
"Uhm."
Morita wasn't much talkative. Takemoto wanted to start conversation, but all he got in reply were short questions and sighs. I wonder what is he thinking about. That has always been a problem. Morita is like one big question mark. You can never tell what may come to his mind, nor his plans. He could suddenly vanish from your life without a word. And never come back. I wonder how many people he ditched that way. But he returned here, to Tokio… to his old workshop. Maybe Morita started to grow feelings of sentiment… or it was just one of his whims.
These thoughts absorbed Takemoto while opening the door to the shop. Letting the guest in, he switched on the lights, throwing light on the inside of the store. It was filled with classic furniture, as well as dozens of bibelots – china cups, candlesticks, little statues, dolls in Victorian outfits; more expensive things like jewellery and silver tableware were put in glass showcase. The stairs leading on the floor were standing behind the counter. (IDK I can't describe this one properly, 'orz. Just assume there were stairs somewhere.)
"Come on…" Takemoto started climbing on the stairs and hurried Morita who was staring at the showcase. When they reached the floor it turned out nobody was home. "It looks like girls are out. Well, it's Friday evening after all."
He looked at Morita. His friend responded with blank stare. "Are you tired?"
He made serious face, like he was considering the question very deeply. "Ok then. The kitchen is straight ahead, feel free to use it. And now excuse me, I have to change my shirt…" Takemoto entered the room on the left, while Morita after few more seconds started to move towards the pointed place.
When Takemoto appeared in kitchen in his fresh T-shirt, Morita already enjoyed his coffee.
"You made some for me?"
"No." Innocent grin. Of course.
"Drinking coffee this late is bad, you know. You won't be able to sleep."
Black haired guy made stubborn face and proceed to put sugar cubes into the cup. One, two, three, four, five... Takemoto didn't even bothered with "you'll eat all my sugar!" or "are you stupid?", Morita would do whatever he wants anyway. Instead of being angry, this gave him some warm feelings. It resembles their student life so much, with one major difference – him eating all the sugar didn't mean bitter tea for the next couple of months.
Morita took a sip of his drink and spit it out.
Takemoto couldn't stop a short laugh that came from his mouth. Morita looked pissed off. He stood up, grabbed some cubes and threw it on the guy shaking from the laughter.
"Oi!" Takemoto dodged sweet flying cubes, just to find himself being nailed to the ground second after. Morita sat on him holding a sugar bowl and trying to put all its contents into Takemoto's mouth. Despite inconvenient position, it wasn't hard to resist – he was much stronger, he works physically with furniture and relictic buildings renovation. Takemoto held both Morita's wrists tightly; he tried to struggle and whooped sugar bowl on gray-haired guy's face. Takemoto got hit but didn't release the grab. He pushed his yelling friend back and crossed his hands, so he could sit up. But Morita fought back, somehow released right hand and started to tickle his friend on the armpit. Takemoto started rolling on the floor to evade Morita's hands, and ended up under him, just like before.
They were both panting, trying to catch their breath and looked each other on the face. Weak, but pure smile shined on their visage. Morita, still sitting on top, put his hand on Takemoto's forehead and touched the place where grey-haired boy got hit by a sugar bowl.
"Ow!" Takemoto said it with weak and surprised voice. The situation suddenly turned into something awkward, young men realized his heart was pounding rapidly second time this day. Morita, still staring at the wounded place, bend and their faces were just few centimeters away.
"You're bleeding. It's not much, just a little… …" The rest of the sentence was soundless, just a movement of a mouth. After a moment Morita stopped looking at the injury and closed his eyes, like he was considering something deeply. Takemoto suddenly had crazy feeling Morita is a vampire. Then he opened his eyes and smiled faintly…
Takemoto felt soft lips touching his mouth.
"Ah!" Suddenly Morita ended this short, lasting not longer than three second kiss with a scream. Jumping on his legs, crossed the room almost not touching the floor and sat behind the table. Takemoto was still lying on the floor, paralyzed by a shock.
"Oh, 'cmon, that was just a joke." Morita started laughing.
"Wha...?" Takemoto still didn't know what is going on. Or rather, he couldn't believe.
"You looked like a princess, lying there with that sissy face, so I thought "I'm gonna wake you up!" That was a play, I'm such an awesome actor! Hahaha!"
Takemoto was persistely lying on the floor and looking at the ceiling, confused, unable to comprehend the nonsense his friend was talking about.
"Hey princess, you wanna drink? Wake up already!"
"The alcohol is on the right shelf, next to the plates." He was speaking automatically, without any use of brain. This is not going to end up good.
3
"So you liked it?"
"What?"
"That kiss."
Morita and Takemoto were both sitting under the table, with empty bottle of rice vodka separating them. They started laughing widely with a typical drunken laugh. Takemoto tried not to think about it until this moment. It was just too much…
Alcohol is a good talker, but a bad advisor.
"It was good."
"I liked it too."
"So… you wanna repeat it?" If Tatemoto wasn't drunk, he'd never said such thing.
Alcohol makes us brave. Honest. And also unable to think properly.
"Hahaha! Ok, why not?"
"Why not…" Their lips touched again. This time the kiss was much longer. Takemoto saw Morita closed his eyes, so he did the same. He felt the tongue licking his upper mouth, so opened them wider, letting it in. Their tongues struggled, faster and faster; Tatemoto felt a hand putted on his neck, pressing him and drawing nearer. Not releasing the kiss, he moved onto Morita's laps. It was kind of strange, because he was copying behavior of one of his ex-girlfriends. He remembered he had found them sitting on his laps very pleasant. Next, another strange thing – the body of another man felt a lot different from woman's body. Wider back, more masculine, more flat, not so soft. These thoughts put Takemoto out of the rhythm, so he released the kiss. Morita didn't bother much and proceed to lick Takemoto's ear. This filled him with new wave of excitement. One of Morita's hands was still on his neck, while the other started to go down along the spine, and under loose jeans. Takemoto felt squeeze, and his whole body has gone up. Then release, and squeeze. He was going up and down with this rhythm, feeling he's harden up. Their lips met again, with much more passionate kiss. Takemoto unbuttoned his own pants, feeling they became a little too tight. Then, another strange thought – Morita may feel the same, so why not unbutton his pants too. While doing so, Morita moaned silently. Then placed his other hand also on Tatemoto's pants, slipping them down. His hands slowly proceed to go more to the front, and when they reached Takemoto's hips, it seemed like he was not sure what to do next, but after a while hand had gone more and more forward. Takemoto felt it growing, started to pant and put his head on Morita's shoulder. Then he felt the touch of cold fingers on his penis through the underwear's material.
Was it a good idea? The answer is: NO. THIS was the WORST idea he had ever came up in his whole life. Not just only because he did it with his best friend, being drunk, irresponsible, etcetera etcetera. What really bugged him was that he sort of…. Did it intentionally, no, more like deep down, although he did not wanted to admit it, he was happy with such situation. And the most irritating was that he should feel guilty, but he just couldn't bring himself to that. So here it was – he may call it the worst trip ever, loudly, but a great pleasure in his head. Nobody has to know. Better not. Does this give him any idea? Idea of the so called relationship? Gosh, more he thinks about it, the worst ideas he gets. He hoped his silly self-confidence in this whole situation did not come from the thought of any further continuation. Ok, recognize your feelings. This is not love, but some sort of affection born from the long period of loneliness. And nothing more or less.
But, there was no time, he had to hurry or he gonna get caught butt-naked on the floor, with all this around him and his friend. He looked at the boy. Takemoto got pretty wasted, huh… such a weak head. And besides he drank a lot more than he did, good he didn't throw up ( in this SITUATION it'd be very disgusting), like he wanted to forget about world. Or maybe his problems? Everybody has problems nowadays, and almost everybody solves them through getting emotional or drinking. Either way it's devastating and such thing as "good stress" is only some sociological bullshit. At least it is what he came up while lookin' at the half-dead, undressed piece of human body lying on it's back on the floor, with some sort of crazy smirk on the face. O maybe better not wake him up? Er, no, he's going to be sick from the cold floor.