A Step Back
inspired by 30_friends' theme, The Third Wheel. it brought this idea in my head.
KAI TALA, FRIENDSHIP. from tyson's pov.
pardon, writing in present tense is not my forte.
Tyson never feels like a third wheel—until now.
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It is a first, for Tyson.
For someone as loud-mouthed as him, it was always easy acting dense, or pig-headed, to get away in difficult social situations. But all of a sudden, he finds this acting very hard and difficult, around two specific boys who can see through any masquerades and facades. Said boys are Kai and Tala, the infamous unflappable tag-team duo representing the Blitzkrieg Boys, and for some unknown reason, the shorter younger boy finds himself walking beside the two in the middle of the night, in the streets of Tokyo.
Somehow, Hilary has managed to forced it on them to do some last minute birthday gift shopping for Daichi, which obviously none of the boys had been gracious enough to remember. And it is strange how women always has this uncanny ability to compel men to do the strangest, uncharacteristic things.
Thus in the noisy district of Shibuya, three boys wander for an appropriate gift.
It is paradoxical indeed. Among all the Japanese around them, Tyson wonders it strange why he is the one feeling odd and misplaced, when he is Japanese, this is his home town, and the boys beside him hail from some faraway, distant place in Europe.
Yet each time he sneaks a glance at them, he believes with all his might that they look as comfortable and at home as other Shibuya rurouni as the next.
Perhaps this is what being around a close friend's accompaniment can do to you.
Tyson doesn't miss a thing. He pretends he doesn't care, as uncomfortable he is, he notices how Kai somehow changes around the presence of the red head captain. Tyson's so used to the cold, impersonal, aloof social masquerade that his blue head friend usually puts up, what with crossed hands and that atypical 'hn' – this all suddenly feels very off-putting and strange. Suddenly, Tyson feels uneasy, and unaccustomed to it.
Like, how he's not used to Kai actually letting his guard down.
In all his life, Tyson thought he'd never live to see the day where a child would actually run into Kai's path and collide into him. Usually that guy's so wary of his own personal privacy and space, he never allows anyone to step into his 1m radius within his territory. But today, when that young little girl with two pig tails bumped into him, Kai had actually not scoffed, picked the girl up from her knees, pat her hair to make sure there were not any more traces of dust, then gently pushed her in the direction her mother left her.
Kai had actually conceded to bend to her height, and now he stands up, looks Tala in the eye and nods slightly.
Tyson simply stares – open-mouthed, astonished as the two boys move forward gracefully in front of him.
As he paces three steps behind, he pretends not to feel left out. And it's stupid to feel like this because Kai and Tala actually never communicates, so what he feels doesn't make sense.
But he wonders why he feels alone, and isolated, as if the silent language the tag-team partners communicate in – well, he doesn't get it.
Like when Tala points towards a gift he thinks is okay for Daichi, Kai simply gives Tala a look, and it's as if Tala understands what it means, checks the price, and shoots Kai a glare. Tyson quirks an eyebrow as Kai actually bends his head to hide an unmistakable, obvious, hint of a small smile.
Tyson suddenly wishes his usual pig-headed behavior that enables him to catch anyone's attention actually works now. For once, he loses the inclination to put up a fuss or throw a tantrum that usually garners him the attention he requires. For some inexplicable reason, he is uncontented, but he feels like he should simply concede defeat, and take a back seat row this time round in their presence.
It is like – they are linked by telepathy. Every movement is connected. They walk, merely inches away from each other. Yet each time when Tala finds something worth viewing for Daichi's gift on his right where Kai is, it is as if the blue head has a built-in radar to sense his friend's motion, and moves away for his friend to walk in. And when the Tokyo chill gets to Kai and he prepares to sneeze, seconds even before he does that, Tala passes him a tissue wordlessly. (As if they had arranged beforehand that the red head shall be the one carrying a pack with him just in case they need it).
They barely even speak a word. Sometimes, they can even spend minutes walking Shibuya without even uttering a single sound.
All this while, Tyson paces behind and feels, lost.
In a little world where eyes and gestures speak louder than words, all of a sudden everything Tyson thrives on and breathes by makes no sense in their world. It's as if their telepathic movements and the incomprehensible degree of understanding they've had of each other since growing up together at a tender age inexplicably builds up a barricade between them and the outside world, cocooning them in such a way that to strangers, they seem altogether a different breed who live by their own language and conduct themselves by their own rules.
"Here," Kai says one word. He doesn't even have to look, and Tala knows what he's referring to.
Tala picks up the gift that's meant for Daichi. He eyes it for a while. Beside him, Kai says nothing.
But it's as though they read each other's mind, without even exchanging glances.
They bask in each other's companionable silence as they both appreciatively look down at the gift.
They don't even look behind to check if Tyson's agreeable with that.
And it's not their fault, Tyson knows. It's not as if they're intentionally ignoring him. There's something about hanging around this pair of tag-team partners that makes you realize they don't mean to otracize you, they tend to get so lost and caught up in their own world, and being so unaccustomed and unusued to outside company (as though their whole lives have been based around living on their own, or having only each other's company, they often forget to look behind to check if they have left behind anyone... after all, who does that when you're so used to being on your own or with your closest comrade?), they don't seem to actually remember, almost as if they forgot, Tyson is three steps behind them.
Something in Tyson (possibly his conscience) scream at him to make some noise to announce his presence. Like a hello, doesn't anybody notice me!? don't you think my opinion matter!? at least, will suffice.
But all of a sudden, watching them like this—he loses every interest in interrupting, in disrupting that little world.
Watching Kai and Tala can be tantamount to... say, watching a ballet dance, or a classical concerto in action. In Tyson's point of view, at this point, he learns.
Sidelined to the audience, one has all the ability to disturb the performance – but would you?
The way they act around each other, speak – everything. It's...like art. Spontaneous, graceful and yet everything comes off perfect; unblemished. And Tyson doesn't know if he wants to be that person to rudely interrupt into all that.
He chooses the wisest option. He simply shuts up, and observes.
(He's so not used to being an observer. He's always been the centre of attention. Around Max, Kenny, Daichi, Ray. Even around other teams during the span of time in the BBA Revolutions—he's always made sure everybody notices him, and his presence. He is Tyson, attention comes to him like he wields it from the beginning of time. Like he is born and gifted with it.)
He's so not used to being ...an outcast.
And the worst part is, he knows Kai and Tala doesn't mean it.
Up ahead, Kai and Tala attempt to negotiate with the Tokyo stall vendor on a lower price for the gift. Apparently, the deal is non-negotiable – but this is the unflappable tag-team duo one is talking about, and the two could turn tables anytime, anyday, if they want to.
Somehow, Tyson suddenly feels inferior to even Daichi. Because they are technically taking the trouble (this, is considered enough), to get Daichi his birthday gift.
The process takes only a few minutes. A few death glares from either would complete the deal.
Tyson watch on.
As Tala searches for his pocket for cash, Kai looks at his friend, then shakes his head and offers to pay for it. He doesn't exactly say he will, but he begins to reach for his own wallet. It is at this point when the red head looks up and eyes his friend with a deadly glint—as if daring his friend to do just that.
Tyson knows he's overly concerned with his own strange emotions, and he knows if he isn't too bothered with it, he would have been his usual cheerful, boisterious self and found it amusing and funny to watch the two Blitzkrieg Boys wrestle it out with their trademark death glares—as if daring each other to pay.
After one literal mintue when he realizes (it hits him he's alive. That he's substantial enough to make a difference in their dynamics, for once.)
He steps in, and makes a decision.
"I'll pay, okay, guys? Now quit it." He slaps the cash money into the vendor's hands.
He notices the mild surprise in both their eyes. They step back.
He's not overly reacting or being hyper-sensitive – but Tyson's sure wherein their defenses were let down earlier, they are now tense, and on guard in a new third wheel presence now.
"Tyson." Both says simultaneously, as though for the first time noticing he is around. As if they forget Hilary hasn't only just asked the both of them to do the shopping ... how long has Tyson been there?
"Oh, and hello to you two there." Tyson replies with crossed arms. He doesn't want to sound sardonic, but sarcasm laces his tone before he can help it. Before he wants to make himself look like a jealous bloke who's so obviously feeling marginalized in the dynamics of the unflappable duo, he makes way for the crowd and longs to disappear into the streets of Shibuya.
(For the first time, he feels like he just wants to blend in and fade away.)
He doesn't want to turn around to observe what takes place.
He already knows—he doesn't have to look behind his shoulders.
Kai's had his hands crossed before his chest, like he's always had around the Bladebreakers (as if for some reason, he's always felt the need to put a distance between him and them...that distrust no matter the amount of events they've been through together.) The snide in Tala's eyes return, and he hastily runs a hand through his fingers as if suddenly alert and vigilante to an external presence.
Shit, Tyson thinks. For some unknown reason, he feels guilt. As though he's been brandished as the culprit for destroying the previous peace and tranquilty that the otherwise usually uptight Blitzkrieg Boys shared.
As they head back towards the apartment where the Bladebreakers are currently staying, Tyson carefully detaches himself from the crowd, and sneaks his way back so that he's once more three steps behind Kai and Tala.
The walk from the hustle and bustle of the streets back to the suburban area where they live is only a sheer half an hour—yet in that span of time, Tyson realizes he's been forgotten again. Or maybe they already know he's there, remembers vaguely that he's an external presence, but simply brushes him away as an acquaintance that will eventually find his own way back home.
In that half hour, Tyson pushes his way past the crowd to keep up.
Another little boy runs into them, and collides into Tala, who picks him back on his feet.
Tyson introspects on ten thousand reasons why exactly Kai and Tala always seem like a different entity when they are on their own, respite from the accompaniment and close scrutiny of their other friends (if they ever saw them as friends anyway) and their one and a hundred million fans.
Wherein usually, Kai would scoff and put on that icy glacier look, and Tala would 'pfft' non-stop and acquire that irate, fiery look in his eyes—they were all missing tonight.
If they were comparable to make-up, both boys wore none of them.
Tala halts in his path, and understandably, Kai stops as well. It is slightly eerie to Tyson when he notes how Kai actually seems to expect when his friend would stop and go in his walk. Tala views something interesting a stall vendor sells on the side – they are some hoodies and sweaters with alphabets printed on them. Tala points at one. Kai looks on. It's a navy blue sweater that has the letter T printed boldly on it.
They both share a look. Kai goes ahead and picks up one that has the letter K on it. They check the price. Tyson risks being a step behind from them ; he takes in all of the conversation.
When the stall vendor offers to make a price-cut specially for them – she is an old lady, apparently a grandmother, with kind eyes and wrinkled hands – and hands them the paid sweaters, the look of genuine sincerity in Kai's eyes and the appreciative 'thank-you' that Tala says to the granny is unmistakably earnest.
For a moment, Tyson wonders if he's watching Kai and Tala, the infamous glacier, fiery pair – or another pair of friends who happen to be some European gentlemen touring the streets of Shibuya tonight.
Tala says something funny to the granny, (Tyson misses this out), and somehow it's enough to make the granny laugh, and bare her cavities and missing tooth. Kai looks away with an unmistakable soft smirk disguised as a smile on his face (he does that all the time around his red head, Tyson realizes—as if only Tala has this ability to sear into his friend's emotions and reveal what's really under there). Kai mentions something to the granny, something like "Ignore him." Tala makes a face.
This time, Tyson doesn't miss how Kai's smallest (very, very small) smile, joins the granny's silvery laughter in the air.
Tala waves the granny goodbye, and Kai follows, but not before throwing a fist up in the air as a gentlemanly farewell to the kind granny.
Along the way, Tala stops to help an old man who's caught his foot in the drain. Another little boy bumps into Kai (evidence of his lack of on-guard defenses this night), and Kai actually ruffles the boy's barely existent hair. When the little boy asks "how are you today, Mister?", Kai's eyes actually light up genuinely (not with the usual mirth or amusement when he does around the Bladebreakers), nods, bends down to the little boy's height and answers, "Not too bad. Yourself?"
It's like...magic.
Off-guard, relaxed, strolling Shibuya, Tyson wonders why he doesn't ever see this anywhere else.
Without lies, without make-up, without deceit, without tension—or maybe it's the influence of each other, the fact that they grew up seven years alongside each other, had been through a tough time since the BBA Revolutions before sorting out their friendship problems again after a weathered time dealing with Boris just only a year ago—the amount of trust and ease they have in each other is unsurmountable.
Tyson suddenly feels intensely jealous.
As much as he considers Max and Kenny his closest friends, he doesn't ever think his friendships could ever be closely described or equivalent to what he witnessed tonight.
Probably tomorrow, when they all have breakfast in the shared apartment again, everything will revert back to normal. Kai – back to his usual snide, sardonic self. Tala, back to his fiery, indifferent manner.
For a long time, Tyson is one step back as he remains a vaguely remembered yet perhaps forgotten existence behind the pair of friends.
Then he finally pinpoints what exactly that feeling is that he gets emanating from the blue and red head...
As the night of Shibuya never sleeps, the pair stop to get Takoyaki balls from another stall vendor.
Tyson watches on as the same kind of easy, light-hearted bantering goes on between them and the vendor, the same genuine looks they offer to the bald old man with beads of perspiration over his face as they accept the handmade Takoyaki balls, the unmistakable gesture Tala makes when he hands the old man a tissue and silently gestures for him to wipe his sweat of hard work off, Kai tipping the old man more than a few extra Yen ; just enough to finish his business, pack up and go home for the day...
Tyson misses nothing.
And as Kai and Tala walk away, biting into their Takoyaki balls silently, but contentedly, saying nothing but simply melding with the crowds of Shibuya, as though despite this not being their hometown but a foreign land that is Tokyo, they still look as though they fitted in anywhere on the streets as comfortably as the next local person, and at home in each other's accompaniment – like it is all that matters. The concept of home for Kai and Tala...is just this.
And after an hour of searching, searching for that single word to accurately describe this bond, these dynamics between the two, Tyson finally finds it.
It's warmth.
--
.
owarida.